Dancing with the Stars

The Stars Above is a part of the Dreamtime.

Like it sounds, it's full of stars. Dancing, shining, engaged in an unending musical performance.

"Gyaah!" yelled the star as my back slammed into it.

"Gyaah!" I yelled, slapping to keep myself awake while part of me was atomized into charcoal.

And then, not being a star, I fell.

Gasping, spinning, falling.

I was wracked with convulsions, glittering light emitting from every orifice of my body. Natural, wound, it didn't matter.

Ugh.

Ah.

Okay, breathe.

Oh, the breeze is nice.

Wait. I'm falling.

Skydiving. It sounds so much better than long-falling, doesn't it? I directed myself into a deep sea, which meant that I survived. Because dream logic.

It shouldn't have, because unlike normal, I wasn't slumbering, but was instead there physically as well. And tired, so very tired, like I hadn't slept in a week.