It's a thing I've been thinking of writing. But I forgot the word for it. Our protag or ragtag band of survivors are moving through the ruins/ blasted out hellscape/ etc. They're tired. Hungry. They wear brown. They haven't bathed in a month. They're injured and scuffed. They subsist on maggots or cans of food. Then they.... Enter a door. Maybe they accidentally pass a portal. Maybe they walk through a hologram. Maybe they enter an underground mansion. But the change is stark. The air is perfumed. The floor is carpeted. Paintings and murals cover the walls. Ornamental statues and books are on the shelves. They are bathed, fed a sumptuous meal, and allowed to sleep on soft cotton beds, their wounds tended. Basically, a massive and sudden change in setting and tone, for the better, so much that it seems like a dream or too good to be true.
I don't know if there is a name for that sort of occurrence in a story, but you're right, it's a familiar one. In folktales it usually doesn't bode well. Or, there is something not quite right about the place the travelers find themselves. It's usually the case that they can't stay. Or if they do end up staying there is quite a lot they have to do first, or must sacrifice, to 'deserve' their place in this wonderful spot. I already like this story, by the way. I am a total sucker for any kind of fairy/folktale. They have stood the test of time, haven't they? That mode of storytelling. I read something interesting the other day, about indigenous American storytelling. Basically, the listeners to these traditional tales know the story before it starts. In other words, it's more of a ritual telling, touching on expected points, than an actual on-the-edge-of-the seat, surprise-'em-with-a-twist kind of experience. I remember now ...it was an interview with Ursula Le Guin that I just read a couple of days ago. She was discussing how modern writers are taught to 'lure' the reader with unexpectedness and even fool the reader in order to create a sensation at the end. The native American storytellers, on the other hand, are revisiting something their readers already know. This is why there isn't always a lot of 'why' in the stories. The listeners already know what Coyote is like and what he does, so the storyteller doesn't need to explain. It's a different mindset. I suspect many fairy/folktales follow this sort of path. If you throw a twist or unexpected ending at listeners to these tales, they won't really be very happy. Ever tried telling a story to a child, but deliberately changing what happens, what people say to each other—or the ending? Prepare to be drowned out by a chorus of "NO!" They know the drill, and won't tolerate variance from it.
It's a variation of Portal Fantasy. https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TrappedInAnotherWorld?from=Main.PortalFantasy
Yeah, I kinda had a vague outline in mind. Not quite finished with the story arc or so. To elaborate: So its been 30 years since the Fall. Shit happened. A massive asteroid strike not unlike the ones that killed off the dinosaurs. 40% of humanity died in the tsunami, and the rest died as civilisation collapsed and the ensuing dust cloud and resulting winter crushed the remnants of the ecosystem. The survivors now strode through the wrecked ruins of cities, trying to scavenge whatever was left after the nukes fell (there was ww3 for the leftover resources). Agriculture is near-impossible (the lack of machines, know-how, fertiliser, and available sunlight). They trudged through a wasteland, not unlike The Road. Then they stop at a set of ruins. Not on any map. But these ruins were special. They weren't on the map, because they were pre-fall ruins. Just generic stuff from leftover romans/ egyptians/ old dudes. There was a fantasy wonderland. But a glitch occurred, and then magic dried up. The survivors banded together, and created a reservoir of sorts, not unlike a tidal pool. There, they partied and drank, and survived in a world where fantasy had died and magic was no longer welcome. But the asteroid strike changed that. They realised that the barrier which kept them secret and let them live would not protect them from the after effects. They also realised that the massive death and destruction would do a 'redo' button, allowing them to survive in the new world. Thus, they hatched a plan. Stasis. They would put themselves to sleep, for 30 years, until the worst of the calamity is over. That time, was now. A belltower rang, and before the traveller's astonished eyes, the universe rippled. Dead wasteland bare of shrubs and grass suddenly transformed into forests and woods. Shattered husks of buildings and broken stone foundations transformed into houses, cottages, and castles. Long dried up and cracked riverbeds bubbled with water, full of fish. And the dust cloud above parted, to show the sun in its full glory. The fantasy natives were delighted. Their predictions were right. Their home had survived an apocalypse completely unscathed, and even better, the metaphysics had truly been reset. They could go out now into the wider world with no fear. And oh look. They have guests. And you know what this calls for? A party! So these poor saps, who've probably only eaten meat when they hunted down the rare rat or human, and mostly subsisted on canned food and mushrooms and whatever stuff, are pretty now faced with a feast as guests of honour. And by 'guests of honour' I mean 'Yes, you can eat this entire boar if you want. And here's some wine to go with it'.
