57208 mise-en-abîme

9 minutes

As the grip of sleep tightens, my purchase on the world dissipates. I drift into a misty forest, where birds chirp and insects drone, and soft leaves on tender branches brush my skin. Voices speak in dim words, bubbling up like the oracular gasses of Delphi. But then I start, a jolt, all my muscles suddenly contract, and I cannot recall what was said.