Feeling uncomfortable in a comfortable space seems odd enough to dismiss. At least, that's how it is when I'm sleeping. So many people; A deep saturation that can continue for years, I swear. That's one memory my sub-mind let me keep, and it was a thrill. My judgement was so impaired that happiness came immediately, profoundly as much as anything else.
But that's the point, finally I felt.
All of the faces my sight craves to taste, the faces I receive no more than the tiniest of sips were unified into one tall glass of water. I might as well have had gills because I drank it so gratefully it seemed I had been deprived of hydration since the beginning of blue moons. So many people. At least, that's how it is when I'm sleeping.
Thus still, I open my crusted eyes everytime and I'm back on land again and the earth consumes me entirely. And as my feet brush against the hard ground I solemnly pray for heavy mud, anything diluted enough to worship throughout the day until my head fades white and returns to the clouds and then there, I swear
I can breathe again.
At least, that's how it is when I'm sleeping.