Waking

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The dark, blurry view washed away from my vision, like a wave washing away a sandcastle. As my view cleared, I noticed my situation. Only bleach white could be seen. It felt like a room, but more of a cell, a prison of fate. I took a deep breath in. It was the freshest air I had ever inhaled in my time of consciousness. The atmosphere felt cold and clammy. It was a storm with no force, a river with no stream. I concentrated, to remember what had happened. I was on my deathbed, eyes looking at me with sorrow. As I wandered the room, I noticed I was moving without legs, arms or a body. Yet, I could somehow still breath, see, move and feel. Was this death? Suddenly, my memories began to cloud up. In a matter of seconds, it was all gone. Then it hit me. This wasn’t death. I was just waking up.
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