Your great uncle Teddy had led a long and altruistic life. Through his admirable work ethic and higher education, he put his immense wealth to humanitarian efforts and reforestation. Unfortunately, prostate cancer and complications brought on by pneumonia didn't care how extraordinary of a man he was, and he passed away. The funeral was heart-wrenching, and shortly after his will was read aloud. Most of his holdings went to is brother's children (your mother), other extended family, and finally, you. The funeral home attendant finished the solemn declaration with, "... and finally, to my beloved Sam, I bequeath you $5,000 and the book titled, 'Skies Above.' I know you might not be very happy to hear about getting a book, but please respect my dying wish: that you would give it a read."
So, you found yourself here, in his... well, now your mother's mansion. You had been rummaging through the colossal attic for an hour when, under a box of Christmas decorations, you found it. The book was dusty as sin, but the leather it was bound in was strangely prestine, and the pages had barely yellowed. The cover merely had the title of the book in silver soil lettering, and an elaborate drawing of a poppy that had yet to bloom, dripping with opium. Pushing back the tears left over from yesterday, you tuck the book under your arm and drive home.

Later that evening, as you wind down to bed, you pick the book up off your nightstand. You open the front cover, and white envelopes your vision. The room around you disappears, and your clothes start to burn and fall apart. However, the flames seem to give your skin a pass from their immolation. When you look down, you can see your own nude body, but the world around you in nothing but an endless scape of blinding white. Suddenly, a booming voice calls out to you.
"SAM. OF WHAT SEX ARE YOU?"
In a small and shaky voice, you reply...