dVerse — Prosery Monday — Lost?

These are the things they don’t tell us.
– Girl Du Jour, from Notes on Uvalde

I’m floating up, out of the operating room ceiling, through walls, the roof of the hospital, and into the night sky. Drowsy in the black expanse, I feel warm in a giant palm that closes around my nakedness. My hospital gown flutters down and away, a falling flag of surrender.

I awake in a sycamore tree whose limbs drape over the moonlit headstone of my grandparents. I hear what sounds like laughter — but more like tinkling glass — above me and look up. They are birds of a species the living have never seen; yet they aren’t birds. I know them.

These are the things they don’t tell us. Earth is a closed system with myriad dimensions to it. Depending on where you are in your cycle will determine where your consciousness exists…