Resort

I was in an elegant resort, a large white hotel by the sea surrounded by tall palm trees and green lawns. I was in my room packing up, getting ready to leave. I had a sense of unease, a feeling that it was time to go. As I walked through the hotel corridors towards the front entrance the walls and doors became less well defined, shimmering as if in a heat-haze. Once outside I went to an open, grassy area and saw it fade out around me, leaving roughly finished broken slabs of concrete with dust blowing across. When the last part of the resort disappeared I realised I had left it too late. 

Softening

I was softening, losing any fixed form, becoming something flowing, almost liquid. At first it was alarming, but then I relaxed, fascinated by what was happening. Someone else was there, he was disturbed, asking me not to go. I tried to explain that it was alright, that I wasn't going anywhere, it was a good thing that was happening, but I couldn't find a way to communicate it. He softened a little too but then became afraid and resisted, clinging to form.