I am sure there are children trapped in a murky dimension just out of reach. I can read the writing on the walls, literally. Childish scrawls plead for help all over the room. They are starving; there is no food in the other dimension. When the nurse asks if I want something to eat, I say “Yes,” even though it’s not true. But I have a mission now. I have to feed the children. I figure I will eat the food and then offer my nutrient-rich blood to them. It seems like the only thing to do.
I tell the nurse my plan. “There are no children,” she says. "There is no writing on the walls."
I'll eat my lunch anyway. She can’t fool me. They are all in on it.