It Is Not a Dream

I rise through the ceiling. It is impossible, yet I do it.

There is no feeling, but I can see my hands in front of me , solid as ever.

The night sky has no temperature, very little light.

Above me I see only the distant stars.

Then I am in a corridor.

I float face up, yet I can see ahead and behind as well.

A curious smell saturates the air, yet the odor reminds me of music. 

Emotions course through me without cause or effect, like paint on a canvas.

I am wholly alone, yet we are all together.


9 thoughts on “It Is Not a Dream

  1. No idea what’s going on here, but it felt a bit iek peotry to read it. At least until the last line when I got distracted by the Beatles! Was that a deliberate twist?

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