I have no idea.
And I kind of like it that way.
There wasn't any land formation that proved to my vision that I was in a foreign place. Looked like grass, trees, mountains and dusk to me. All normal. Yet it couldn't be familiar, and there was no familiar in my life to link it to. It was an ancient letter, written in a foreign alphabet that had suddenly fallen from my book of every day life that I was so previously engrossed in.
Isn't that letter's existence a mysterious thing? The timing of its appearance amongst the pages of life, the challenge it is to decode it after every word and the questioned necessity to decode it at all?
A person could go crazy obsessing over it for how much the meaning of life, in that moment, hinges on its story.
"Keep this with you, carry it along, and the answers, translations and lessons will come in time. I'll make sense of it all, I'll be your Constant. But for now don't fight the inevitable, trust Me, and just enjoy the ride."
Simple 10 minute encouragements like this from Jesus have fed in me a growing obsession for setting myself up to be taken by delighted surprise over the unknown and to let my own non-self-coached emotions occur from the unexpected.
I call it, "Exploring (Pocahontas style): In Good Company".