A revelation came to me, muddled in the fog of a dream. It was hidden from my mind for three days until my subconscious propelled it forwards while I was—of all things—washing the dishes.  

I was nearing the top of a lush green hill at nightfall. The air was warm–maybe it was an evening in late summer–not too hot, but balmy and lacking humidity. And with each step upward, I became lighter. It took no effort at all to ascend.

And the colors were so lucid, each in its purest shade. I saw the most vibrant blue saturating the night sky, the brightest candescent whites moving quickly past me, and the spongiest green beneath my toes at once dark and speckled with moonlight.

The vantage overlooked a city—no, a town—nestled at the bottom of the rolling hills beneath me. It was quiet from here, but I could observe the slow movements, see the lights on in each structure, watch the clouds go by.

I reached the top where you both were lying on your backs and looking outwards. I walked towards you and in the instant that I went to lay down, a breeze passed by—sweeping me up, stretching time, and slowing my descent while the world went on.

And when I reached the ground, I was weightless. No outside forces were pushing down on me, gravity no longer applied. I lay on the ground of my own volition, slightly floating.

I turned my head to look over at both of you, looking out at the city, the stars, the sky—and thought to myself, This is what actualization feels like.

And I turned my head back, falling into line, belonging there with both of you.