Speaking of home, here you are. Back on terra firma, as they say. God's green earth. It's a beautiful, clear day with golden rays of sunshine, blue skies and birds singing off in the distance. The plip-plip of a small stream of water is heard nearby. Wind breezes through tree leaves at the base of a gigantic mountain, sounding tonal and almost musical, with melodies that make surprising amounts of sense despite their natural and seemingly incidental origin. Deep gravity-heavy warmth tugs you gently down, and you decide to take a nap under the trees. A plane goes by overhead, leaving a contrail of sound through your mind. With weather this nice, you might not leave this fantasy mountain until well after Winter has subsided.
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