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Around you, the vivid shapes ebb;
recede and reduce to a wispy gossamer.
Look there! By the horizon:
glitter (or dust?) dissolving upwards,
a pirouette at the astronomical dawning
of consciousness.
This "hypnopompia": an intermission.
An interlude.
The in-between of inter-netted eternities.  

How long have you been here?
And have you been here before?  

You are nowhere. You are everywhere.
Perhaps it is time to wake up.