The outside world could be seen through the open doors that were the only source of light. The sun shone on the path, picking out a discarded tissue wrapper, its garish colours painful to see, a sharp stabbing sensation. The priest crossed the path in front, failing to bow her head, causing exasperation. Bright green weeds grew between the stone of the path, each leaf abrasive, raising shudders as the breeze made them dance. As the priest paused by the torii to speak to someone currently out of sight, her voice was ever so slightly off-key, a jarring clash with the hum of the environment.

A second woman joined the priest at the top of the stairs, the sharp crack of an electric shock as she passed through the torii without bowing. The priest led her to the purification basin, the ill-cared for plants around it a constant, throbbing ache soothed only a little by the pure balm of the flowing water. Impurity was washed away with the water as the two women cleansed themselves, following the simplified ritual that was all that was practised any more. As they walked towards the shrine, the detritus of passing humanity became painfully clear: an empty plastic bottle, the chemical stench burning; the end of a cigarette, heavy with smothering pollution, manifold and clinging; part of a sweet wrapper, its sickly aura only partly offset by the anticipation that clung to it. The stifling bare mud clung, denied growth, denied expression, adding a touch of impurity to their feet even as they came closer.

The other woman cast some money into the box, a spark of light, but dim and fading quickly as there was no passion behind it; money she could easily do without, given to a cause for which she cared little. The priest bowed and paid her respects, the power of her offering the tiniest fraction weaker than the last time, continuing its decay. The other woman tried to match her, but she gave the rite no energy beyond its own power, nothing to make it special.

But she was special. She was… open. No, not that. She fitted. She was a part of the shrine despite feeling out of place, looking around as if there should be something here to welcome her, as if she could feel it too, but understood it still less. She looked straight in, with recognition in her eyes, and in turn recognised herself.

The shock jolted Akiko awake. She had dreamed of herself, so who had she dreamed she was? The dream stayed unusually vivid in her mind, and it didn’t take long to piece it together. She had dreamed her visit to the shrine, as seen from the shrine building, at least most of the time, although sometimes the point of view seemed to be right beside her. And that final recognition was the moment that she had seen the snake in the depths of the shrine.

Which meant that she had been dreaming from the snake’s point of view.