I have strange flashbacks all the time. Visions of large bookstores, strange worlds, feelings that I just can't place, emotions, smells, images, echos. Where does the reality end and the real stuff begin? Numbness, neutral buoyancy without all the equipment. I look down, are those my hands? I am scared shitless about the future, yet I love, love it. I have no idea what the next word I will write after this coming period.