Dream or reality?

We were diving in an underground lake, in a cave. Everything was fine until we descended a few meters, where divemaster Michal started

taking photos of me for a diving center advert. I took my regulator out of my mouth for a moment, then put it back on, and everything was photographed.

Even though I was well-balanced and neutrally buoyant, I began to descend very quickly, as did Michal and the other divers. I don't know about the rest, but

Michal and I were unaware of our descent, constantly engaged in taking photos. There were no reference points in the depths to indicate we were

sinking. I only became aware of our descent when I saw the illuminated seabed out of the corner of my eye.

I looked there to see some submerged ruins. A building, an upside-down boat next to it, and pillars driven into the seabed all around.

My first impression was that it was some ancient, long-flooded ruin. A place where no one had been for ages.

Only after a moment did I realize how deep I must be, frantically searching for an inflator to add air to my jacket and blowing myself dry to avoid damaging my ears. I couldn't – the descent rate was too great. I hit the bottom, landing on my legs, which almost completely buckled from the impact, but I maintained my balance.

I was in shock. I couldn't blow myself dry; I was at the bottom of some deep, underground

lake. That was enough, until I saw people – or perhaps eerily human-like creatures. They were walking along the bottom as if nothing had happened. Without drysuits, or even wetsuits. Without air tanks or regulators. They were essentially dressed much like people dressed in the early 20th century. We caught their mild attention, though they weren't particularly concerned. They continued to go about their business.

As I looked around and observed the faces of the other divers, I noticed that each of us was in a similar state. There were about five of us, counting me and the divemaster.

Looking around, I saw a completely different landscape than it had been during our descent. We were in a sort of square in a small town.

All around were houses with flat roofs, the architecture of which was, however, astonishing. The building I saw as I descended turned out to be an ordinary shop.

The shocking thing about it all was the indifference of the people around us. They were walking, breathing. For a moment, I wondered if this was a dream, if this wasn't

too incredible. However, I decided I wouldn't be convinced until I saw something absolutely absurd. It was all acceptable—

let's say so. If it was a dream, then nothing could happen to me. If it was reality, I still had to take the risk and check it out.

I slightly tilted my mask, which surprisingly hadn't filled with water, or perhaps, being so under the influence of adrenaline, I hadn't noticed. I sniffed slightly, expecting the unpleasant sensation of water in my nostrils. What I felt somehow justified what was happening.

I took a deep breath. Seemingly, not a drop of water. I could breathe underwater, without a regulator. I put my mask back on, breathing

air from my tank again.

I drew the diving knife strapped to my calf to tap on the tanks and attract the attention of the other divers. It was a bit absurd, considering that we were clearly not in the water at that moment, but on air.

However, it had an effect, and the eyes of the other four turned to me.

I took the regulator out of my mouth and tossed it aside, the hose and canister falling down, out of my sight. Still fighting my instincts, I opened my mouth. I inhaled "air," and my chest rose. I exhaled—only now did I notice that no bubbles appeared.

I inhaled "air from the water" again and exhaled again.

Everyone was shocked. Tentatively, Michal reached for his regulator and pulled it out as well. He tried to inhale through his mouth.

A faint smile spread across his face as he, too, realized he could breathe here. The others, seeing us, also dropped their regulators and began breathing underwater air.

The situation meant we could also speak, as if we were on the surface. It was all very strange. We headed for the store, passing a group of women walking perpendicular to our course. They gave us a quick glance and moved on, unfazed.

The interior of the building resembled a modern grocery store. Bottled drinks lined the shelves, and sweets were on the counter. There was even a cooler (was it working? I doubt it) with ice cream. Then I realized my face wasn't cold at all. The drysuit kept my body warm at all depths, but that didn't apply to my face. In fact, I didn't feel any discomfort, even though I still didn't remove my mask.

The saleswoman wasn't talkative. One woman in our group, oddly enough, happened to have a wallet on her. I don't know how she

brought it here; maybe she had it in an undersuit underneath her suit

? Never mind. She bought everyone what they wanted, though I held back, distrusting the situation. Another surprise was that

the saleswoman accepted our Polish coins without hesitation. Two zlotys, złotys, groszy. As if it were normal, or as if

she was paid daily with money from all over the world.

The rest of the group had already emerged. I looked around and couldn't see them anywhere. I couldn't see the slightest sign of them passing in any direction. I started to panic. I looked around again – they were gone. Just people passing by indifferently. I placed my regulator

back in my mouth, deciding to surface. There were still two people left on the boat we'd been diving from. I inflated my BC to its maximum capacity with the inflator, and surprisingly, I began to slowly rise upward. As

the depth decreased, the ascent rate increased. So I slowly began to withdraw the expanding air from my BC. Making the appropriate

safety stops to avoid decompression sickness, I soon surfaced.

The boat was still in place. Piotrek was bustling about

– our second divemaster and another guy I didn't really know. I put my mask on my forehead – which, among divers, meant panic – and started slapping the water with my hand. This quickly caught Piotrek's attention, and he immediately jumped into the water, wearing only his wetsuit, mask, snorkel, and fins. A moment later, he was at my side, looking nervous.

I briefly explained what had happened, though he paid no attention to my incredible story. He probably assumed it was all a result of

nitrogen narcosis – an effect that occurs at a depth of about 20 meters and intensifies with increasing depth. The state was, in a

way, similar to alcohol intoxication. We stop

thinking rationally, and our thought processes often slow down significantly – we have trouble solving the simplest math problems – and we get a feeling like, "There's nothing to worry about, it's so much fun..." "

Don't worry about the rest. For a moment, I even considered going down after you, but I figured you'd be fine. After all, you're experienced divers," Piotrek said when I told him the other four were still at the bottom.

"Please, let's go down. Let's look for them. By the air bubbles, the flashlight beams, whatever," I tried to persuade him, even though I knew they probably weren't using flashlights or leaving bubbles floating to the surface.

Piotrek agreed. Something about his behavior surprised me. I don't know what, but he was acting strange. He grabbed my hand and motioned for me to deflate

my BC. I did as he told me; he was a divemaster, after all. But why wasn't he wearing any gear? We descended together,

Piotrek slowly exhaling the exhausted air, and I suddenly realized I couldn't draw a breath from the regulator. I glanced at the pressure gauge—the tank was empty.

I jerked and showed Piotrek that I was out of air. He ignored it and motioned for me to exhale calmly. We were approaching the bottom at tremendous speed. We hit the bottom, both gasping for breath "from the water." I unzipped my jacket and left it on the ground. I also took off

my fins, following Piotrek's example. He must have known about this place, had been here before, I thought, though I didn't say anything.

Suddenly, two men approached us. One older, with a beard, the other

younger, with a crew cut. "

Hello!" the older one said cheerfully. The other only nodded.

"What is this place?" I asked immediately.

"You know best. You just have to believe what you guess," the older underwater man chuckled. Piotrek remained silent, exchanging only glances and nods with the couple we encountered.

"How is it that we can breathe here?"

"Oh, that's mostly my son's fault.

" "Well, that's right. I once discovered how to create an 'artificial atmosphere' underwater. We made it happen. Technically, we're not breathing air now, but a mixture of air and compressed oxygen.

He's talking about nitrox," I thought.

The couple turned away from us and began to walk away, disappearing from sight after a moment. I was shocked, though Piotrek seemed unsurprised by

our conversation.

I followed him silently along a path paved with boulders. It climbed upwards, and we followed it until we saw a town larger than the one

where we first landed. It was located at the foot of some strange "mountains." The jagged rocks were extraordinarily high, and to the locals,

they must have been considered mountain peaks.

As we entered the city, incredible architecture greeted us. Unlike any I'd ever seen on Earth. It was like a fusion of all styles—contrary to appearances, the effect was miraculous. The streets were somewhat artificial—no vehicles moved along the cobblestone roads. Cars, angular, resembling broken terrestrial ones, stood parked on the shoulders like monuments. We crossed the road, unaware of the two men behind us.

Suddenly, they grabbed us and twisted our arms behind our backs, cuffing our hands together. The underwater men were dressed in costumes reminiscent of American police uniforms from the 1930s. They didn't speak, only smiled broadly.

I couldn't help but laugh as I realized they'd probably stopped us for crossing the street in an unmarked area. This city, this whole thing, seemed terribly artificial to me then. As if these people were pretending to be an Earthly society, but all they were producing was a poor

mock-up.

"Leave them alone, guards! I'm taking over the detainees!" she suddenly exclaimed.

a third in a similar uniform. I thought he might free us. Instead, I felt the impact of a police baton on my back, belonging to

the third stranger. The first two "policemen" saluted and left, and we walked ahead of

the third, following his instructions. I noticed Piotrek fumbling with his handcuffs, slowly removing his left hand from the cuffs. Our eyes met, and we ran forward as Piotrek released his hand. The policeman was still chasing us.

Suddenly, Piotrek grabbed my arm and dragged me into a side alley, where there was a single, rusty door. The divemaster quickly turned the handle, and we were inside. Beyond that was another door, made of nailed boards. Light seeped through the cracks in the door. Piotrek quickly knocked. A small, slightly overweight man with glasses opened the door. He beamed at the sight of Piotr and let us in.

We quickly explained our situation—he said there was nothing to worry about and that he would hide us. The room was cluttered. Various papers, boxes, and plastic bins were strewn about the room. Our savior approached the door when a knock sounded.

Terrified, I thought he was going to betray us—I could see police uniforms through the cracks in the door. Instead, he gave me a thumbs-up sign—only after a moment did I realize he was telling me everything was alright. He opened the door slightly and slipped through into the hallway, closing it behind him. He seemed to be talking to them.

I sat down at his desk, at the other end of the room, noticing the sign that read, "Nail Biting Service - Affordable." A smile spread across my face when I saw the bitten nail scrapes in the bowl next to him.

This was the height of absurdity.