It was completely black. Up was black, left and right were black. The sofa we were sitting on was black. Down was black. I'm sure that if I checked, behind us would be black too. Occasionally there would be a shimmer in the distance and then the black would re-assert itself.
"Where are my legs?" asked Roth.
"We are both a little out of context here. Actually, quite a long way out of context," I replied. "It's probably normal."
"How am I going to eat a pizza off my lap? I don't seem to have one."
"Don't worry, there won't be a pizza delivery for at least 13.75 billion years."
Roth became the only white thing I could see and passed out.
Time passed, I looked at my watch and nudged Roth awake. I pointed him to a tiny pinpoint of light an indeterminate distance in front of us.
"Is that what I think it is?"
"It might be. It has the potential to be. I've seen this a few times before and it doesn't always make it."
The tiny pinpoint expanded to a blindingly bright patch like the sun, only blue-white. Like the sun after it had been given a really good wash on a soap powder commercial. Then the patch forged outwards and overwhelmed us. The shimmer turned into ripples as the light hit us.
This time it had made it. The brightness calmed down and things shot past us, buffeting the shimmer. It was impossible to identify the things. They just weren't things we'd recognise.
"So that dot of light is the universe, and we were outside it watching it expand? The Big Bang."
"Yes, except we're not outside it, because there is no outside to be out in?"
"Then where are we?"
"Does the sofa seem familiar?"
"Yes. Are we still in my living room?"
"Does the Big Bang happen often in your living room?"
"I didn't think so, although admittedly now I'm not so sure."
"This whole construct is generated from the power of our minds. The mind can travel where physically we couldn't be."
"How do we get back?"
"It's very similar to the Wizard Of Oz. A sort of there's no place like home. To make it easy I have put the suggestion in our minds that we'll return when the stop button of the remote control is pressed."
Several minutes go by whilst we hunt for the remote control down the back of the sofa. It isn't helped by the black sofa, black remote control and generally black surroundings.
Roth succeeded. "Found it. Shall I push the stop button?"
"Yes, but make sure your mind is clear when you do. Remember this place is a construct of our minds."
There was a blinding flash. We were back in Roth's living room.
"You didn't clear your mind, did you?"
"I did so."
"Then why is there a zebra sitting on my lap with a swirl of cream on it's head topped with a cherry?"