I jerk awake, panting. The room is bright, sunlight streaming in through the windows. I glance around momentarily disoriented. Then I realise that it’s my room. I’ve awoken on my bed.
I’m thoroughly confused. It’s my room, but how did I get here? When did I get here? And what kind of weird dream had I had?
I strain my memory, trying to remember. The last thing I recall is walking along the road sometime around midnight... and the dream. But even that, in the way of dreams, was no longer clear. I could remember vividly how it started—the conversation with three spirits whose presences I could only feel, and a kind of chant ringing around me. But though I’m certain that there was a lot more to it after that, all I can recall is a feeling of immense power, a mesmerising beauty, and a thrilling soprano, and as I recall them, my heart rate, which had gotten a lot steadier, begins to slowly rise again.
What was it about that beauty? What even gave me that impression, and this feeling of... of acute desire? I frown in concentration. Flashes of colour assault my memory. The rush of wind. A thrilling voice.
Suddenly, my phone rings loudly, jarring me from my deep thoughts. I’m breathing heavily again. I look around for the phone, then realise it’s ringing from my pocket—I’m still wearing my things from yesterday. It’s Chloe calling.
“Donnie? My gosh!” She sounds relieved, but I’m not paying full attention. I’m still distracted by my memory loss. “Thank goodness you’re alright. I’ve been calling since 1am! Did you get home okay?”
“Uh... yeah,” I reply.
“Yeah? Why didn’t you call? You promised to call once you got home and you didn’t! I’ve been so worried.”
I feel a brief but sharp tinge of annoyance. “Sorry,” I mumble. I slide off the bed and glide towards my bedside table.
“Donnie? Are you sure everything is all right? You sound strange.”
Now I’m irritated. I’m trying to figure what happened last night and why I was feeling so out of it, and her constant questions and accusations were only helping to distract me. I feel so strange. Even my movement from the bed felt unusual, and I don’t know why. Chloe won’t let me think!
Suddenly it hits me. I had slid off the bed and glided towards the table.
I had glided.
I glance towards my feet at once. My heart skips a beat. I’m not standing. I’m hovering a few inches above the ground.
“Donnie? Donnie? Are you still there?”
Chloe’s voice sounds tinny over the phone’s speakers—my hand has fallen limply to my side. I stare wide-eyed at my feet, feeling slightly light-headed. I was flying. Holy crow, I was flying!
“Donnie? What’s happening? Hold on—your feet haven’t touched the ground this morning, have they?”
I catch my breath, shocked sharply out of my immobility. How did she know?
“What?” I say into the phone. I don’t know what else to say.
“You haven’t woken up, right? You’re still half asleep.”
Oh, that’s what she’d meant. I breathe again, my heart hammering loudly. “Er, yeah,” I reply. “Let me call you back, okay? I need to... yeah.”
I hang up without waiting for her response.
What was happening to me? I catch my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are wide, my mouth gaping, my skin pale.
There’s a sharp knock on my bedroom door.
“Donald? Donald, are you in there?” It’s my brother, Damien. And I’m still hovering above the ground!
“Yes!” I reply loudly. “I’m here, just give me a minute!”
I try to force my feet to the floor but nothing happens. I concentrate with all my might.
“Are you alright? You sound strange,” Damien calls through the door.
“Yes!” I reply again, panicking slightly. I can’t let him or anyone for that matter, see me like this! But nothing is working. I have no idea how I’m doing it or how to reverse it.
“I didn’t hear you come in last night. When did you come in?” He asks.
“Uhm... I’m not exactly sure!”
Suddenly, a memory hits me from last night’s dream. Except now I know it was no dream —all that had actually happened. I remember the thrilling soprano saying something about ‘feeling the energy around me’. And I had done it, hadn’t I? I had felt and immersed myself in the immense power and energy in the atmosphere or from the moonlight, whatever. I decide to try it again—there’s literally no other option. I close my eyes and steady my breath. Then I concentrate harder, much harder than I had done before, feeling around me for the same energy, the same power I had felt last night.
And it comes. I feel it almost immediately, not nearly as strong as I vaguely recall, but there all the same. I feel powerful, and suddenly, lowering myself a few inches doesn’t seem only doable, but positively easy.
“Donald? What are you doing?”
My eyes snap open. Damien has opened the door and was staring at me. I glance towards my feet. They are firmly planted on the ground. I breathe a small sigh of relief and finally, smile at him.
“Nothing,” I say. “Good morning, Dammy.”
He gives me a long look that clearly says he thinks I’m crazy. But it’s not strange—he has been giving me that look as long as I can remember.
“You better hurry up,” he says at last. “You’re badly late for work.”