She wakes up from a childhood dream to find herself in a dystopian world.

Everything that is, isn't as well. Madness is not the same as she is used to, and everyday she grows to realize reality itself is just a collective agreement. Through screens, people talk without thinking. She eats and drinks to feed her head. She's lonely, surrounded by followers but no real hugs, no mutual understanding.

She seeks enlightenment, she does yoga, reads the latest book on whatever someone told she must read, she paints the walls, baked bread, created a garden. Yet nothing makes sense, and she's still there, grasping for a reality she never quite understood, but at least it was familiar.

Days pass by and it's hard to know when, how much or what day. Time is a continuum, a broken one. She misses her friends and family, she misses some kind of normalcy to hold on to. She used to believe maybe that was what was needed, a bit of chaos to shake things up. Now they are all shaken but as lost as before.

Maybe she's just having another millennial tantrum. Who would know. These young people are so full of imagination.

So she eats, drinks and smokes again, waiting for the cure to all madness to come, dreading an answer that silently creeps the back of her head.

We are all mad here.