Normally he awoke to singing birds. This particular morning there was no singing, no chirping. He rose and looked out the window. All he could see was a brilliant shimmering white light and nothing else. Not the apartment building across the garden, not even the garden. Without trees and grass it was no wonder there also would be no birds to sing him awake. He felt like he was in a movie, a Fellini perhaps. No, this was more on the order of The Incredible Lightness of Being. He didn't especially enjoy that one. He didn't hold much hope for this experience either. Surely, he must be dreaming. Surely, he will wake and hear birds again. Maybe if he resumed his position on the bed and then rolled over he would stir awake. Problem was, he couldn't roll his body over.
Let me tell you a story I once heard...the basis for everything I write.
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