Sometimes I wake up, and it is as if I never fell asleep. The black expanse above me has become illuminated with dazzling lights, some dim, out of reach, some gleaming bold and bright. I want to reach out and grab one, drink it in, glow from the inside.
Sipping something cool from a straw, the flavor of citrus is on my tongue. The chilled liquid glides down my throat and spreads out into all my cavities, washing over me in a wave .
Next to me, strumming, his fingers slide smoothly from note to note, and I hum along, feeling not the familiar anxiety of being heard, of making too noticeable a sound.
Instead I am connected to the tune of my own voice, softly perceptible over the sound of his music.
Awake now, I listen to the water cascade endlessly onto the sand.
I don't want to fall asleep again.
All the sounds will stop.