Where you had to arrive at a time of consciousness where all you could do was observe. Flashes would come in the way of scenery, scented by earth and blue pine.
A red and yellow tree in autumn, so that it was o blaze or only appeared that way. Early autumn when the daylight hours are still long and the night just seems to take them over.
Tilting in, the sound of animals as they tried to out-race the rise of the coming moon. For a river becomes older and wiser than any owl. And the moon is there, always keeping things astir.
Your past are fires, that many others would have mistaken for demons... all the stars, so that they all must just repeat somewhere. Never being any less present until overtaken by a brighter light.