Bleary warm dark, soft breathing in the stilness and beautiful silence, wonderful in its thickness and depth like falling into a velvet curtain and slowly drowning in its heavy folds but the breaths just come in and out slowly in a rhythm, drifting further into the syrupy darkness never seeming to find the bottom, but the fall isn’t a fall any more, just spinning slowly in a graceful arc in an empty space, black and devoid of light but watching small pinpoints of brightness appear until the void is shining like the night sky, full of light and colour but eerily silent and beautiful like a muted explosion of life frozen midway and left there to grow old in the void which seems to be eternal but looking now one of the lights is growing brighter and brighter until it smothers the others under its glow, absorbing them into its mass like a sponge sucks up water but now the sponge is full and needs to be wrung out and the trickles of watery light ooze out in a kaleidescope of patterns on the canvas of the world, wonderful and rich with a depth which never seems to end as you gaze into it more sides appear and the three-dimensional maze of thoughts organises itself into flat lines amd edges all shifting into posistion as the matrix of connections all fire together to bring everything up and your eyes open to the shrill scream of your alarm.


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