Something New, Old, Wonderful

Unrealistic? Probably. I don't ever remember seeing this in real life.

I start by falling to that realm in my head, back/left/center that holds right. For a moment, I'm floating; it's dark, senseless. Not in a bad way, not insane, not anything. Truly. No sensations.

Then, slowly, it spreads. My head floats on my shoulders. My feet grounded, my body whole. No checking for where the connection between grounded and floating is. That twists, grounds.

Shhh... There. Unbothered, unsensed, thoughts floating, whirling, drifting, whispering... Almost asleep. Dreaming.

This time, the dark turns black. Alone for just a moment. Bells chime; white comes. Lovely, soft spots of cheery, chilly white. Almost spherical, all of them. All with natural sides, more freshly turned earth than bubbles. Lovely, they drift down. Or up. To me.

Oh, beautiful. They come into focus. The edges still not smooth, for they are what they are, and only closer for being in focus. One touches. And we're the same temperature. Whether I am chill or they warm, who knows. No way to tell. A little pressure, lighter than a feather, and consistent, runs across. Down a cheek. A hand. A leg. Not the same everywhere. But each run keeps the same weight.

And do they melt? Or do they simply stay as they are, part water? I'd need other instruments to answer that. Sight. Beyond what I guess of feel. Or another temperature, comparison. I could be cold.

What I can see, I know. Looking up. White, soft, drifting like fine sugar.

Snow. Wonderful snow.