I'm here. I exist. The sky I see is real. The lights crossing the sky are real. I can't fly. There's is little I can do. I just sit and wait. The sun will eventually rise again. The mind keeps trying.. to.. erghhh... escape...

No more boundaries. The clouds are soft and the wine is sweet. The houses are warm and the grass is wet. The water moves subtly. I can the see the fishes from where I stand. Instantly, a fresh breeze hits me like the sun through my window on a Sunday morning. The scent of the trees takes me home but I stay.

I'm here. I exist. The sky I see is real.