This is what we call a Freudian Joke

Oh Luna dancing up and up the Celestial Sea, the little glowing dots and the glowing moon providing the moonlight lil' Tabatha needs in the attic of this dusty mansion. For her entire life can yap on about how she planned to finally see what all the buzz was about the Window. Reaching the attic without raising the attention of the dust-bunnies, her eyes enlarge upon gazing at the Window for the first time. Approaching closer, she stares out through the Window and was confused at how pitch-black it was despite the outside being moonlit; getting closer, she started to see but it was all foggy despite color piercing through it. Within hand's reach, her hands braved the gap and stretched out.

Then the Window became clearer and Tabatha thought she saw her hand reaching out in the backdrop of unfamiliar night-scape; that was until she jumped back as the reflection-hand knocked on the window. As her bottom made contact with the floorboards, dust-bunnies scurried all over the place; meanwhile, the Window cracked with the first knock by that reflection-hand. The reflection-hand placed its palm on the Window, but Tabatha was shaking like an earth-quake. She was never told this, she never heard a rumor or a tall-tale of it being that real; she thought it was just hallucination, or some psychical-mishap. But the reflection-hand persisted in its shape and knocked again, cracking the Window even more; Tabatha reeled, curling-up and wanting to cry thinking she was ensnared by whatever lurks beyond the reflection-hand. Then pure silence filled the air and her fear dissipated like wet-puddles in a hot summer night; staring up did she see the reflection-hand behind the Window persisting through her fear. Standing up, she tried again to go to the Window.

Getting close enough to the Window, she jerked-back as the reflection-hand was about to knock. Hearing no knock, she looked back to see the reflection-hand suspended in motion. Seeing its frozen-state more clearly, she saw it was her own hands the entire time that emerged through the mist of weird colors. Poising her hand like the reflection-hand, she went in for the knock and the Window shattered; with that, the reflection-hand went away as did the glass-shards into the mist-beyond. She looked all over, but there was no safe way to climb-through safely to the other-side. Then it hits her that the hand had no body, so she vaulted through the broken Window and braced the depths with shut-eyes. Within the second she made it through the opened Window, she felt neither the harsh dirt nor the branchy wood nor even the copious amounts of vegetation. Opening her fearful eyes, her ears heard the caw of a mighty mysterious bird and her hands the texture of black-feathers.

The first time she was soaring in the air, what she always wanted to do despite the gripping acrophobia that always melted all her wits and security. The winds blew on her mullet, and yet she felt no tug to collapse onto the dark-bird and accidentally roll-off the majestic-avian. Her coat and her skirt miraculously intact and her thigh-highs unscratched, her thoughts only wondered how lucky she was to fall onto this giant-bird until they themself spoke:

"Tabatha, Tabatha, do you not remember me from your nightmares – the guardian angel against any hostile night-creature that terrorize you throughout the night? Tabatha, Tabatha, do you not recall me from your art that you'd paint onto many canvases – the watermark that bind a death-curse to any art-thief if they dare touch it? Tabatha, Tabatha, do you recall not the crows that chase away any pestering boy that ogle and fawn over you – remember how they care you the femme fetale for the crows that guard you to and fro school? Tabatha, Tabatha, do you not recall how you chased a crow only to meet the love of your life by bumping into him – oh do you recall the butch lover preferred to be called a 'he' over 'she' or 'they' my sweet Tabatha? Now I know you may wonder why I ask all that, because they all indirectly answer the question of how lucky you were to land on top of me. But I know you have a burning desire that goes beyond the Window, you came for something that no other has been able to find: the secret. Oh a glorious search, but now you must take the reins in order to find it on our voyage!"

Climbing slowly but surely to the crow's neck, she prayed with her screams and her screams eekingly prayed to be protected from any danger she might face. Hugging her guardian-angel's neck, she peered over the head of the crow-like angel and began to see through the mist. Yet her head dug into the crow's feathers, all too much did she felt overwhelmed. Praying once more, she pleadingly pronounced:

"Lord, be my Northern Star and provide an anchor-sight for my travels; I venture into the unknown, but You my Lord know what extends beyond! Increase my vision, my God, for it is poor and I admit to something You already knew! Strike away the fear in my heart, for I wish not to be a fool in Your grace! For You are the Almighty and I am weak towards You, yet I wish to brave this journey and so lift me up to glory!"

Lifting her head up, her heart no longer quivered as her head felt clear from the acrophobia that gripped her earlier. The mist clearing up, her hands tugged on the crow-guardian and the crow-angel moved as she commanded. Despite being lost in the sea of night-light and surreal geography, her eyes felt as though they knew the path. Tugging here and there, she scoured all over in her flight until she spotted the area she was being attracted towards. Preparing for landing, she steered both of them to the ground; tugging sky-wards, the crow impeccably landed without a hitch and Tabatha remained unscathed.

As magically mysterious and surreal-y silent the geography was, she explored as the crow-guardian trailed behind. Reaching the center of this strange spot, she noticed the Window from before and saw the attic that she came through as well. Her head confusingly turning back to the crow-guardian, the crow-guardian's beak nudged her towards the Window and her body reluctantly moved towards it. Seeing herself from earlier made her body quiver and yet she still extended her hand, repeating the same motions as her memories recalled what she had done before going through the Window; this time however, the third knock didn't shatter the glass back to the attic. This time, it lead to a new room as the shattered Window's frame expanded to accommodate both the crow-guardian and herself.

The room that impossibly fits inside the now broken Window was littered with geometrical symbols inscribed onto the walls, platonic patterns in the architecture stunned her eyes, an air so sweet that her lungs felt relaxed and an atmosphere so calm that her mind was at ease. Yet, she wanted to know the secret of the Window. What was its essence, why does it exist, how many have gone through it, and all these other questions kept spinning about her head despite feeling as though this impossible room answers it without words which made her more frustrated that she couldn't voice the insightful mystery she had stumbled across. Then a noise rang out, and appeared a descendant of King Solomon: with eyes, ears and mouth willingly shut. Recoiling, she then profusely apologized as to which the descendant simply raised their hand that soothingly quelled her worry. Prostrating, she then stood up to ask:

"Are you the creator of the Window?"

Out of all the questions that she wanted to ask, she knew it would be pointless since the impossible room alone provided evidence for her convictions about the Window. The descendant's hands clapped into a perfect prayer pose, of which all the symbols in the room glowed; Tabatha took that as a yes, proceeding to embrace the descendant with a mighty cry. The descendant's hands reassured her, quickly washing up the guilt she had; as-if the descendant knew and didn't need to hear it, but she also felt as though her penance wasn't done. Feeling invigorated, she exclaimed:

"For this is a glorious gift God gave to us all, and you to maintain such powerful portal here. I could've lost myself in the infinity of my desires, but now do I proclaim a greater desire to bring the glorious mystery to all those that will lend their ears and hearts. This is my mission, and I am the missionary for this glorious journey! Onwards do I sail, towards resparking the embers of faith itself shall it be achieved!"