Gallery

I have floated.
Twice.
Above beds both times. Above me only once.
The first time was a drug induced experience of what now seems unbelievable like a dream except for the overwhelming assurance of vividness and recollection. Part of a time in my life when societal reality seemed its most ridiculous and my urge for more was only suppressed by laziness and succumbing to the escapism found in hallucinogens.
The other time I was dead, or dying or something. As I lingered above the operating table, doctors busily at work I could see me lying vulnerable. I remember looking around the room steering clear of all things so to retain sterility. Illogical even in spirit. I quickly grew bored of the experience deciding I had nowhere else to be but back on the table. So back I went. I tell you this because I lost my fear of death that day. Although I am in no hurry to experience it properly and still fearful of physical injury I am mighty curious. I know there is more. We are spirits having a human experience.

In memory of Becks