There was a stark bedroom. The lighting was dim, the walls were brownish. It was like a dorm room. I was floating above the bed, hovering, and my door opened so I fell from being startled. Then, I started to rise again. I was hovering just below the ceiling when my door opened and my dad poked his head in. ‘You shouldn’t sleep on the ceiling,’ he said. ‘Why not” I asked, and he said, “You might fall if somebody wakes you up.” I decided to hover slightly above the bed.
