Eyes close. Sigh. Relief. Dark. Sheet pulled up. Sleep falls. That wonderfully comforting falling sensation in the nebulous land of pre-sleep. Sensation of falling in the most delightfully dark nothingness. The falling stops, the voices start. First a soprano sings a high constant beautiful tone. Never faltering. Without vibrato. The owner of the voice never seems to breathe. Steadily more voices are added. Alto, bass, tenor. Until the voices are innumerable yet mesh into one organism. The corporate voice sings open and beautiful major chords, with the perfect dissonance. The tuning is perfect and the overtones stack on top of one another like an image between two mirrors. There is a steady beating rhythm which is positively the heart of the dreamer. The bass life force of all this commands the corporate voice, which ebbs and flows and rises and falls like a fall leaf in a thermal draft. Bass voices gracefully clamber up octaves and sopranos mimic in the opposite direction, while tenors and altos sing a not quite melody of tenuous chords and arpeggios.
Its comfort and nothingness. Sustained and all encompassing, free to do what it will but always tied to the heart beat of the dreamer. Its a long embrace from a woman who loves. The kindest of words spoken outside of the sphere of reciprocation. The care of a father that is neither aloof nor inhibiting. It is...
Heart bass is faster. Pillowy darkness retreating. The corporate voices shatter into a thousand and glissando back to nothingness. Eyes open. Nothingness gone, everythingness....returned. Dreamer's feudal attempt to close eyes. The corporate voice dead, awaiting resurrection.
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