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.
Ode to that trippy place between asleep, and awake.