Just the Wind

Long sand, gold and white, flat and smooth as far as the eye can see. Nothing can be seen on the ground or in the sky. The sky is blue/purple with no sun showing, yet there is light from some source but I am unable to see from where or how.
I am flying or floating as if being moved by a breeze, in no planned direction and in no particular time. There is no day or night, hours or minutes.
On the horizon, a small speck, it grows and grows becoming recognizable as a dwelling, a house. A small house of one story in an old style but not of any one period.

In passing around the house I discover that there is no back to the building, only a large, smooth opalescent wall. No door, window or hole of any description in the wall. I pass around again to the front. Through the front door the house is empty, devoid of any indications of habitation and full of dust and dirt. As if it has been empty for many years. Able to explore further, I find a small room with a small door in the opposite wall. From behind the door come the sounds of a strong wind blowing.

          I open the door and am nearly blown over by the unexpected blast of wind and water. Looking out I see a world that is nothing like that from which I just came.

Here the land was not of flat quiet sands and blue/purple sky, instead I found myself at the edge of a raging sea with huge waves breaking on equally large sized rocks. The sky, as with everything else was very dark, browns and blue/blacks, huge billowing clouds with jagged brilliant lightning everywhere.

          Yet there was no thunder, just the sound of the roaring winds.

          No other light or sounds, just the wind, the storm, and me.