a forest of Yggdrasills

I'm familiar with C. S. Lewis' The Magician's Nephew, so the concept (modulo Hugh Everett and the multiversists) of the Wood between the Worlds is known to me.

There was Yggdrasill, and Ziggydrasill, and Eh?ggsdrasill, and Lollygaggdrasill, and
Sightgaggdrasill and many others. Combinatory birds sing in the distance.[*] Thor was tending to the binding of Mjölnir, some of which had popular culture damage. Tiny fanfic antilichens had started growing in between the leather, and Thor was with portable scanning tunnelling electron microscope ablating them away, metaphysical particle by metaphysical particle[1] I was, as you might expect, amazed.

Thor looks at me with a knowing glance which might be interpreted as "oh mortal, you again." but feels like Lord Vultan "Gordonnnnnn!" has just given you a very long Thai massage session. Ratatoskr nibbles on some acorns hither and thither (although these fell from trees on these world trees).

Usual clueless human questions: "Where is this place?" and then a tasteless comment about parallel universes and superpositions of wave functions trailing off into astonished muttering.

The forest floor is serene and grassy, almost feeling like more of a zen garden than a forest.
Thor puts his stem rig and Mjölnir on a convenient rock.

"There are many no places, and no times, each one a distant memory like magic smoke signals of muons between here and there. Sometimes arteries of light, like the lightning evinced from Mjölnir, jump from tree to tree here. "

There's the faint scent of quantum mechanics evaporating in the air, somewhat reminiscent of a still chlorinated swimming pool. Also perhaps visions of an umbrella, philately, and the sort of thunderstorm that last for months. A night of sorts meanders by, and I look up at the (what passes for the) sky. Thor "shhh"-gestures at me and I wake from my dream.


[*] Mostly written in an attempt to give some substance, if ethereal vistas and suggestive metaphors, to which forest Smullyan's combinatory birds inhabit. As always, this more the Thor from Adams /The Long Dark Teatime of the Soul/ than recent movies.
[1] And could be heard muttering "Selv jeg har min egen headcanon" in old Norse.