The feeling of falling was timeless, and could have lasted for hours or for minutes, but the worst thing about falling is always the landing, and in his stupour this rang true for Al, as he desperately tried to get his bearings.
Al struggled to his feet and his head laboured to catch to this new vertical position.
"I say," exclaimed Al to no-one in particular, "how curious is this?"
Taking in his new surroundings, Al noticed he was in a hallway of doors. Had he attempted to count them he would have realised there were 32 doors, each with a separate path to walk. Being of a curious nature, Al noticed that of all the doors ahead of him (which he had not counted consciouscly), only one was closed and upon examination; locked.
Despite taking a brief look behind some of the open doors and finding nothing objectional, Al's optical memory dumped what he had seen, as with a keen sense of human stubborness he resolved that the locked door was the one he wanted to see behind the most.
Al struggled to undo the lock, but there was very little at hand to assist him. Upon reaching his frustration point, Al fell into the door, slumping downwards towards the floor. Halfway down he met his brain which was still struggling to find the vertical base he had just abandoned but was quite happy for the half-way meet.
"It is useless. I shall never find a way through the door."
No-one could tell you how long Al stayed in the mindset, but for expediencys sake we jump ahead to his next point of consequence, which was when he observed a small three legged stool to one side of the room, positioned in a place where (surely) he must have seen it earlier. A lone bottle rested upon the stool, and out of all the strange events that were happening, the prospect of seeing a low-calorie beer (for indeed, that it what the bottle looked like from a distance) scared him more.
Not willing to drink something without fully knowing what it was, Al carefully read the label on the bottle.
"Existential juice (TM)?" he proclaimed, taking a slow cautionary sip from the bottle. It had a sort of mixed flavour of cherry-tart, custard, pine-apple, roast turkey, toffee, hot buttered toast, and SPAM.
Instantly, the juice took effect.
"Of course" he pondered to no-one in particular "When is a door not a door?"
At which point, a Raven who I'm sure we mentioned earlier in the story? he was called Erom answered: "Because it can produce a few notes, tho they are very flat; and it is nevar put with the wrong end in front!"
"No" answered Al passively, calling on three years of student dope smoking sessions for experience "the answer is "When it's a jar."
At which point the locked door turned into a jar, if it was not just a jar in disguise in the first place.
Now a locked door may be a conundrum for someone without a key, but a jar is far easier to open, and open it Al did, without the aid of a tea-towel or manual labourer husband. And if a door is for stepping through and a jar is for going into, then a jar which was a door is for stepping into. Which Al did.

Al's next question to himself wasn't about the veracity of stepping into a jar, or why a jar would contain a world unto itself. No, his next question as the effects of the Existential Juice (TM) kept its strange hold on him was "Who am I?"
In more stressful times in his life, Al had found it beneficient to be two people. The person he actually is, and the person he'd like to be, who was fairly similar but looked more like a movie star and always wore shades - shades that actually fitted him and suited him, unlike in reality. Al started to wonder if he was still Al, or one of Al's friends.
After much pontification, Al realised that he wasn't any of his friends: not George or Heinrich for neither of them would have had the intelligence to question what they wanted for supper, never mind their reality.
"To be stupid, and selfish, and to have good health are the three requirements for happiness; though if stupidity is lacking, the others are useless." thought Al, bitterly wishing he was one of (stupid people) in question.
Al also knew he wasn't Ellie or Val, for at various times in his life he had been quite taken with both of those young girls, and if there was one thing of which Al was completely certain he wasn't in love with, it was himself. Al continued on his strange journey, venturing ever deeper into undiscovered territory.

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