Dreams, flying over the Atlantic
Deeper and deeper into the woods you go. It is dark and so humid that the ground has turned to moss. You look around and realize that not just the ground, but almost everything, save for a bit of face of timeless rock or ancient trunk of wood, is covered in a thick green layer of moss.
Sore muscles from days on the trail and heavy eyelids goad you into taking a short nap on this enticingly soft natural bedding…
Your body jerks and you open your eyes to see nothing but white, everywhere. You wonder if you really woke up. You try, but cannot even see your hand in front of your face. Sitting up slowly you look up, down, and all around, there is nothing but white. In vain you try again to see your hands, feet and even your chest. All is white.
Finally, you close your eyes and see the familiar old black mixed with red you get when you close your eyes in the presence of light. Light passes through. There is the choice, black or white, yet other than that, your eyes can make out nothing. You extend your arms up over your head, stretching high into the white as you take a deep breath into forever.
Inevitably, you relax back down and fall off into dreamland, leaving it all behind as if it had been just a dream.