What would your Mental World be like?

Let's say that you, or someone else, went on a Journey to the Center of the Mind and ended up in your Mental World.

What's it like?

edited 29th May '11 1:04:45 PM by Korodzik

YOU DO NOT WANT TO KNOW.

[1]

-posts in this thread-

edited 29th May '11 1:35:55 PM by annebeeche

A thick, overgrown forest in perpetual autumn, with huge structures made of white rock, connected to one another with a complex network of rope bridges.

But I do.

I really do.

My mental world changes with my feelings and circumstances. I think most peoples' do.

At the moment, it's a derelict English ghost village surrounded by a haunted deciduous forest. The weather alternates between all types of temperate weather. The only ways in or out of the village are a train stop and a murky canal.

edited 29th May '11 2:05:38 PM by Shichibukai

Dandelions. Dandelions everywhere.

It would be really boring.

A bustling, cyperpunk and hip-hop-themed metropolis.

Spaztastically (dis)organized by theme, very loud and interruptious, and very mood-swing in overriding tone. It could be a cheerful, bustling city where everyone knows your name, a dark, horrible forest where everything is trying to kill you, a school with studious but crazy people learning and teaching there, or a cute, sugar-laced world with rolling hills and sunshine. But it would always be fun to go there.

edited 29th May '11 2:11:51 PM by burinnu

edited 31st Jul '13 5:14:43 PM by CompassionateSadist

It would be my house. Unimaginative, but I'm not very creative.

edited 29th May '11 2:13:17 PM by Erock

Sunny and happy one moment, rainy and sad the next. Very, very sporadic. Other than that, nothing special.

3D fractals.

Whatever I want it to be.

My mental world would be somewhere in the multiverse that serves as the setting for the many stories I'm constantly brainstorming.

...a post-apocalyptic world full of yangire schoolgirls using bats, knives and submachine guns to violently murder alien invaders?

edited 29th May '11 3:59:10 PM by FuschlatzOReilly

Three districts, a world bright with optimistic evil. A very gloomy world of orderly evil. And a world of absolute chaos driven by anger and bitterness. All of these districts have completely shunned all that is natural, soft lines are never found, metal is the most common building material, and the sun is perpetually hidden by rain clouds. Every last structure seems like it was built as a bunker, ready to withstand the end of the universe.

A cityscape a few hours after sundown. The buildings are tall and simply designed, emphasizing function over form. The ground is flat, and city blocks are perfect rectangles. Streetlights illuminate the shops and the clubs, and lights are on in some of the houses. The air is clear and the streets are clean, and when you look up, you can see the stars. The moon is large, and seems to glow, casting down its own light like a weakened sun. I'm standing behind the counter in a used bookshop, waiting for a customer.

An empty field with a tree in the middle.

The song Starlight by The Smashing Pumpkins will be playing somehow in the background.

It's Spring. You feel cool, and also warm, at the same time.

You lay in the grass, and feel melancholic.

You fall asleep, and awaken near a river.

Tonight, Tonight, also by TSP, is on in the background.

You see endless clips of my life; happy moments mixed with the bad moments.

You walk into the water, and you are suddenly in the back of a truck.

1979 by the above band is on.

You ride away into the twilight of the Suburbs, watching my life as a teenager fade away.

Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness

edited 29th May '11 4:51:17 PM by cutewithoutthe

Mine is a field under a starry night with a ridiculously bright full moon. The entire field is covered with a dense fog that clings to the ground and refracts the light into hundreds of colors.

I'm not sure. I think it'd depend on when you'd enter. Interesting. I honestly don't know!

A recollection of awesome parts of history, with classic rock blaring without explanation, usually.

Sometimes, Celtic music, intricate images, chanting, et cetera.

About once a week, everyone speaks in poems or the universe is a novel.

Occasionally, explosions happen and everything turns into numbers and gears.

A huge, gray fortress with an almost infinite number of protective walls, in the middle of a mountain forest landscape. It is cold, chilling, and permanently dusky. The fortresses' gate is down, ready for visitors, but there are no roads to be seen anywhere close.