You stand in a room and a woman with knitted eyebrows appears in front of you. She glares at you until you feel small and foolish.
You’re admiring the haystacks painted on the walls when suddenly the room fills with pastel-tinted water. You get swept away by the swirls of color and leave with wet shoes and a lily pad stuck to your heel.
You walk up a flight of stairs. Then down a flight. Wait, now you’re going up again. And maybe you’re back where you started? You pass a giant hand drawing a picture of itself, go through an upside-down door, and discover you’ve exited the building.
You walk through a trippy desert canyon and your watch melts off your wrist. On the plus side, you leave rocking a sweet handlebar mustache.
You gain fifteen pounds and look fabulous.
You are surrounded by flowers blooming. So many flowers. And they’re kind of… sexy? You walk out and immediately get on Hinge.
You enter the room and it’s a complete mess. Splatters everywhere. You go searching for a mop because wet paint is a slip and fall hazard.
You look at some nice scenery and feel fine but upon closer examination, you realize you’re nothing but a bunch of disconnected fragments.
You’re just doing your usual thing and suddenly you’re best friends with Andy Warhol and movie stars want to hang out with you.
Your face is on a can of soup and everyone has an opinion about it and you kind of just want to go back to the Basquiat exhibit.
You walk into a black room. You stay there until you get bored. You walk out and nod, pretending you “get” it.
If you’re a woman, you are forced to sew, pour milk, and make lace. If you’re lucky, you get to play the harpsichord. You leave wearing a pearl earring. Just one.
One wall is orange, one is red, another yellow. It looks like your classroom from 2nd grade. You go to the front desk and ask for your money back.
It’s just a diner, but you leave feeling pretty fucking lonely.
You stand in a room surrounded by images of distorted faces staring at you. Nothing really makes sense but by the end, your skin has turned blue and your arm has become attached to your neck.
You think nothing happened but the next day you discover your jacket is shredded and you find a stencil of a tank on your right butt cheek.
My Cousin From Scranton Who Went to Art School
You’re saddled with student debt that can never be repaid so you spend the rest of the day getting stoned.
You try to focus on the dramatic use of light and shadow rather than the graphic depictions of death. You leave carrying a severed head in your hands.
You go straight to your therapist’s office.