The lapping of water is the first thing you perceive. It is still dim when your eyes open, though now you can make out forms cast in the light of the moon. You are bare, comfortable, laying upon the very edge of a shore with soft sand at your back and cool silt at your feet. Stars hang still, yet blinking, in a distance farther than you can fathom. You are not yourself, but you are something good.

It is effortless to clear your mind. Waves glide over you like silk, a lullaby lingering in each wake. The clarity of the moon gazing down has you reflective and serene, and you are so content you can hardly move. But you must move.

Once you slip into the waters, you can hardly stop. All directions are open to you, swimming freely in the tender hold of the ocean. You spin and twist, confusing up from down, allowing yourself explorative flourishes and movements you never thought possible. Nothing aches, all is smooth and cold and fascinates. You wish you could swim forever. A satisfaction laps gently at your heart when the idea surfaces. Eternal moon.

At some point you touch down upon the bottom of the ocean. It is softness beyond softness, heavy silt that welcomes. You cannot help but doze.

And then, you wake.