He felt that his time in this world had no clear purpose, as if in a dream, yet he could see everything with perfect clarity. Every dot in his vision was crisp and clean. He lay in a bed of clouds, and his bed expanded past his own body for miles and miles all around him, and he quickly realized it was no bed at all: it was nothing. Why, he asked aloud with no real curiosity. His words materialized thinly and quickly disappeared into the emptiness of the atmosphere.
There was nothing here, no feeling, no company, no happiness or sadness. Above him he could see only a fuzzy blue despite how oddly clear everything else was. He stood up shakily and felt himself sinking ever so slowly through the cloud barrier. Not wanting to fall through, he began walking. Just walking forward, with no idea where he was planning on going.
Nothing in particular made him wander through the skies. He walked in the same direction, at the same pace, and the same thing on his mind: nothing. Well, not completely nothing. Soon he began to feel a slight tug in his soul, and his pace broke slightly. He walked on again, feeling a bit more of that something that he could not distinguish. Again he felt a pull slightly stronger than before, and a single word entered his mind: home. As he kept forward, the tug came even stronger and more often and the word began to echo in his mind. It was not a violent word, it was just a friendly pulse that attached itself to his heart and led him forward into a gallop towards whatever it was he was supposed to see. The clouds looked the same as when he started, but the feeling within him changed something and the steps he took were no longer the whimsical steps he began with. Perhaps they were with purpose all along.
The word vibrated, and he sprinted, he sprinted until the sounds in his head suddenly stopped, and he found a gaping hole in his perfect nothingness.
Peering downward he saw a swamp.
Stepping forward he saw Matope.
Falling downward was his home.