There is a strong upward movement and to the right, and I find myself standing at the edge of a forest at night.
Behind me is the forest, hushing and whispering, and before me there is meadow land. It is dark but the stars above are extremely bright and the sky isn't black, it is a dark midnight blue.
I can't hear any sounds of birds or insects or other creatures, just the hushing of the forest. The wind is light.
Where are you?
I shift my perspective to view the world in the other way and all transforms. The web of lights is in the sky, so bright that it blinds my vision and it is reflected in the endless flowers of multi-coloured shapes and forms in the meadow. It is very peaceful here, even on this level, very beautiful. The kind of place were one might lie down and simply fall asleep ...
I scan the meadow until I sense a soft shape beneath the flowers. Someone is sleeping in the meadow, has been sleeping here for so long that grass grew over them, and those magical flowers. I move into a forward glide for I don't want to set foot in this meadow; partially because I don't want to trample on these flowers for I don't know what they are, but partially also because I suspect to touch this ground would result in me lying down as well and becoming yet another fading mount that loses its shape as time goes by ...
I wonder how many souls may have been absorbed here in this place ...
I fly horizontally to the shape I have discovered and hover just above it. I wonder how to free them, how to reach them. I don't want to touch the flowers. Not with human shaped hands, that is for sure. What hands might be of more use here?
As I think it, my hands shift and become white wings; now, the fear is gone. I let my feet become white wings also and now I can stand in this meadow in safety. I gently stroke the grass and flowers that grow on the soft shape, and they ... unfold backards through time, becoming smaller where I touch them, becoming seeds and blow away in the light breeze until the shape of a naked man becomes revealed. He is lying curled up on his side, and he is very fair.
I stroke him softly with my wings; I intend to wake him up and get to know him, but the wings have the same effect on him; he becomes younger and younger, a boy, a child, then a newborn baby. I have a real desire to pick up the child and hold it in my arms, and I know what is going to happen when I do; I sigh and gently raise the child with my wings, enfold him to me and soon enough, the process is complete and when I open my hands, a small, intensely bright white light rises up, up and is lost amongst the brilliance of the stars above.