This was the life. After what seemed like months on the run, and years since having a good and peaceful resting spot, we finally were safe. If there was a bigger pleasure in life, I didn’t know it.

The hammock swayed back and forth lazily, catering to my beaten body, lulling my mind to sleep. It was working too. I felt myself sinking into the pits of unconsciousness, slipping into myself. I was acutely aware of all the things around me, like I was invisible, because it seemed like nothing in the universe had realized that I was there.

The blanket underneath me was exquisite, probably a cheap polyester blend of some sort, but at that moment, it felt like satin, like a black pond at dawn, before anyone dared to disturb it. I heard birds chirp excitedly, probably zooming to and fro above my closed eyes. My eyelids had color exploding behind them, like my own personal firework show, dancing and twisting bolts of all different colored light entertained my to no end.

OK, now I had to be hallucinating. Did Taylor slip something into my drink to distract me? Did I eat some bad berries on the trek here? I don’t remember running past a nuclear power plant or anything.

My hand unclasped itself from my shirt and fell over the edge, hanging lazily. My breathing was evening out. Something was tickling my knee, but it wasn’t the kind that made you laugh. No, it was the annoying sort of tickle that just occurred sometimes, like when the wind blows just right, or your own pant leg brushes ever so gently around your ankle.

I wasn’t asleep. But I wasn’t awake, either. I was in a sort of half sleep, and it was my belief that we all go through this right before we actually fall asleep, but its always very brief and quick, so we don’t notice it. But that wasn’t the case this time. I was stuck in it, and it didn’t seem like I could get out. Not that I was complaining. It was almost more relaxing than actual sleep. I was resting, and no one was going to bother me because it appeared that I was sleeping, when in reality I was completely and utterly aware of everything that was going on around me.

Running water. That was what I heard now, echoing all around me. Dogs were yelping and barking at each other.

I couldn’t help but wonder how many other people had felt this. Surely not many. Everything seemed surreal, fake, heavenly.

Would everything be the same when I woke? Or would I have this whole, new, philosophical approach to life now that I’d seen one of its many mysteries, a mystery other than the fascination with reality shows or professional sports.

And if suddenly I did wake with an Aesop type of outlook on life, how was I supposed to explain it? I had a life changing event while I was swaying in the winds on my hammock? No, I’d keep this to myself.

I felt myself slip even further. I didn’t know how I knew, but I just did. I knew that I was passing out of this sleep state, and going into actual sleep. But I heard one last thing before I passed out; feet pounded against the ground.