[The Delve] 07/01/16: A Visitor In A Strange Land

>Dodecahedron
A tree, with legs.
A futuristic panther

As you descend you flit through a multitude of shapes conjured up by your restless mind. Here, in the transit zone between realms, form is a just a matter of opinion, a pleasant memory, a desire revealed. Here nothing is permanent and even time itself is in a state of constant flux, ebbing and flowing at a pace of its own.

A wolf lion, the fiercest of spirits as to ward away any unwanted guests.
Shape of: A tourist! Form of: Madras shorts & a Hawaiian shirt!

Eventually you settle for a fierce predator - not your favorite but useful for warding off unsolicited companionship - tempered by clothes marking you as an affable traveler. You are sure that if you had a body they would feel comfy, and you have heard that some cultures hold great spiritual significance to them to boot. Very thematic!

>crumbled desert monuments
>A sphinx

You land on top of a ghost of a nuclear-powered lighthouse, rattling off tiny flakes of rusted paint that dissolve into nothingness before hitting the ground. You peer across the pale landscape basking in the embrace of a perpetual dusk, devoid of any definite source of light. Instead pools of lack of darkness, in want of a better term, emerge from the twilight like islands out of mist. The ground below is covered in dead coral ground up into soft sand by the weight of generations passing by, and jutting from it lay discarded ancient monuments, permanent fixtures disgorged from some other layer of this turbulent realm. To your left you think you recognize a stepped pyramid, a perennial visitor making its slow circuit across the thermocline riding the currents of glacial time. A sphinx guards it, looking deceptively man-made, but you suspect that it is a memory of a being not place, making it inherently more dangerous. To your right hangs a pair of wooden vessels still in the process of sinking. They whisper at you that they are English warships sunk by the Dutch herring fleet and wish to know who won the battle, but you pretend not to have heard them - the scenery is in habit of being a great liar, and you have a personal rule against engaging it in conversation.

The contact that was supposed to be waiting for you is nowhere in sight, which puts you in a bit of a pickle.

Over the countless millennia the world above and the world below have grown out of synch (because the dead do not observe daylight savings time), making your body and soul accrue age at differing rates - spend too much time in this place and they no longer recognize each other upon your return. You are not yet in any particular hurry and could afford to wait for a while longer, or you could look for the contact by yourself but then you would risk missing each other - this is where you were supposed to meet after all.

What should you do?