The Land of the Converse

The night is young, my lovely friend. The ever crisp, cloudless night sky looks upon us, winking with the fires of tens of millions of stars. The night, she wishes us a memorable and safe journey into the land of the converse, the land of the light and fire and that of the alive.
That which we are not.
Come my friend, take my hand, and we will soar above these stars and this perpetual night, where the moon is ever absent. We will break free of the stratosphere in this dimension, create a rift in the fabric of time that we will sail through and into the past.
Into our memories.
As we rip through the thin membrane that holds these dimensions apart, I will feel you falter, your hand loosening ever so slightly in mine. I will whisper a word of reassurance, a word that only we know, a word that is recognized not by any language of the earth that we once knew and walked. You will strengthen, and we will snap through the barrier with a rebound effect, catapulting into a blinding world of golden light.
Slowly, we will fall to the ground and our feet will gently touch the soft, springy grass. We will smell the air of the living. Joyously, hand in hand, our wings will fade into invisibility and we will start to walk into the forest, searching for what we know exists only in this dimension, and only for us.
We will walk for days, it seems, but the sunlight will never fade. We will never grow tired, never grow thirsty or feel the pangs of hunger. We will walk, on and on, into the horizon, always into the horizon, where the sun never sets. Though even if it did, we would not be able to see it; the thick growth and canopy around and above us will prevent us from actually seeing the sun.
Finally we will step out of the confines of the forest onto a bank where a river that holds the clearest, purest water that has ever been known to anyone, anywhere runs. Laughing, we will splash into the river, and within we will find the memories that we had been searching for. They will fill us with the quintessence of happiness, something that has never been felt by humans.
'But then again, we aren't really humans, are we?' you will ask, picking up the thought in my head. I will smile wistfully and answer in the negative, and we will revel in these memories that we have found.
A sudden rush of cold air brings me back to the present; you are at my side, our wings are outstretched; we are ready to take flight.
'Where were you?' you ask, and I shake my head, indicating with a touch of my mind to yours that we should leave now. You nod, and off we go into the sky, our fingers interlaced.
The barrier approaches quickly, and, as predicted, your strength lessens. I whisper that word, that one special word, but it does nothing. I say it again, louder this time, but your grip is further failing, and then you are out of my grasp entirely. Then I hear you cry out; the division is directly ahead of us.
By this time it is too late to stop, and we slam into the invisible wall. Your wings disintegrate like tissue subjected to water and a strong wind, and you plummet to the ground. I am stuck to the membrane, it seems, unable to aid you, helpless and watching you fall to your death-
-the cool metal of the gun at my temple, my finger on the trigger. The surroundings are swimming around me in high contrasting colors that make me want to vomit. I close my eyes quickly, half reflex to steady my whirling mind, and half not wanting to see the mess that I will make.
I whisper your name, and then that word, that final word. My finger applies that last pound of pressure.
Bang.