Arrowhead.

This is an old one.

I am swimming, scuba diving, underwater. Classmates and friends are here too, and a teacher. Some of us stray from the teacher, and play and explore a shipwreck we discover. Somehow I keep swimming, and find myself lost. I come to an underwater chapel. It is empty. It is eerie. I am not sure whether it is safe. I pass through more halls. I have a sudden feeling of being not just watched, but chased. I swim faster and faster, until I find land. An air pocket awaits. I leap up, running down a small stone hall. I reach an empty room, I am still chased. It gains. The room is enormous, warehouse like. High ceilings, but filled with the strangest of things. Three metre high orange and yellow fat, hollow rotating cylinders, only each with a 1/4 of the pie missing. They rotate ever so slowly. They fill the vast space in an orderly, grid-like fashion. I don’t have much time. I skid past a few of them, and hide inside of of the cylinders. I am safe. Only, I am not safe. The cylinder rotates at a snail’s pace. Tension builds. I am exposed. I see the zooming arrowhead, perched on it’s fast and tiny wheels. It stares as me, with its faceless form.

I am dead.