Audio PODCAST

As I plopped into bed, the chaotic events of the day dissolved like a sugar cube in tea, and my pillow welcomed me like an old friend. My eyelids felt heavier than my grocery bag after a sale, and suddenly, everything went dark—like someone hit the lights in a bad horror movie. Sleep kicked in quicker than my dog does for a treat, but instead of my usual trip to dreamland, I felt a bizarre sensation of floating, like a balloon at a kid’s birthday party. I tried to open my eyes—though who knows if I really did—and discovered I was hovering above my body, attached by a silvery string, looking down like a confused spectator at a magic show gone wrong.

Panic poked me in the ribs, but curiosity elbowed its way to the front of the line. I gave myself a little mental pep talk and zoomed upward, crashing through the ceiling like a ghost trying way too hard to make an entrance. The night sky was a disco of stars twinkling like they were auditioning for a talent show. I floated over my sleepy neighborhood, roofs glimmering under moonlight like disco balls, and the world was so quiet I could hear a pin drop—or maybe that was just my stomach growling. It felt like ultimate freedom, unshackled by gravity or the need for a snack.

A pull yanked me off the beaten path and right into the middle of a cosmic road trip. I zipped over forests sporting glow-in-the-dark leaves, while rivers crooned like they were auditioning for a talent show. Below, I spotted some bizarre figures—half-shadow, half-party lights—prancing around like they were trying to win a dance-off. They caught a glimpse of me and, with eyes as wide as saucers, seemed to say, “Hey, buddy, you’re just as lost as we are!” One waved me over, and I trailed behind like a confused puppy toward a giant, floating crystal that looked suspiciously like a disco ball. Its shiny surfaces didn’t just sparkle; they flashed snippets of my life—me chuckling as a kid and at a crossroads I hadn’t even seen coming. Talk about a plot twist!

Inside the structure, time decided to throw a party. I strolled through scenes of my past, not as a participant but as an awkward bystander doing the Macarena. Regrets turned into fluffy, soft pillows, while joys got a flashy makeover. Suddenly, a voice—not like a loudspeaker but more like a toddler with a megaphone—whispered about choices still waiting in line. It wasn’t so much guidance as it was a slapstick truth, completely unfiltered. I realized I could pop back into my body anytime I wanted, but hey, who would want to end a good party early?

I soared higher, into a wacky realm where colors tasted like cotton candy and my thoughts were busy reshaping reality like a toddler with Play-Doh. I fashioned a city out of pure imagination, with spires twisting like pretzels at a carnival. I boogied with some bizarre beings that could have been dreams or just really enthusiastic delusions, their laughter sounding like a symphony of quirky charm. Yet, amidst all the fun, a nagging ache set in—the annoying tether calling me back to reality, probably for dinner.

With a thought, I zoomed back like an overly ambitious elevator, descending through layers of existence until I found myself stuck above my sleeping self like a badly placed lamp. The thread pulsed like it was auditioning for a musical, and I plopped back into my body. My eyes popped open, the room looked just as boring as ever, yet everything felt like a quirky dream. The clock blared 3:17 AM, and I lay there, still as a cat napping on a warm laptop, the taste of starlight hanging around like a bad pickup line. I wondered if I’d actually left or if my soul had just crafted a wild yarn better suited for a late-night talk show. Either way, I knew I’d be carrying that adventure with me, a sneaky little secret tucked away in the night’s quiet like a taco in a backpack.