It feels like a dead person dreaming of her past life as if it was her present, a bit like in Lynch's movies, like in Mulholland Drive. The opaque curtain is drawn, outside the window is only an infinite blue, as immense and terrifying as the sky, with the ever-dying immobile light. Nothing exists outside of the room. The Sea Priestess does exist much more. It reminds me a collection of short stories, for kids, about Lovecraft, a book I read too young enough to have nightmares out of it. In one of the stories, a boy found a copy of the Necronomicon, and invoking a formula made the whole world disappear and dissolve. He was watching from his window the buildings and roads break in parts, going away forever. This room is a furnace. I feel already dead.