In a moment of perfection, the ghosts of my mind were laid to rest.
There were people, alive still, using my furniture and taking up my space; but fragments of images.
Ghosts projected into the now.
There were places, a superimposed mental hologram, edges and shapes blurring into the now.
There were conversations loud in my silence; echoes bouncing invisibly, and voices filling my mind in the now.
There was past, and there was past manipulated.
There was future, positive and negative. Interchangeable outcomes.
There were senses and feelings, so real, or not?
Then the sun shone, a bird sang.
In which moment?
My attention wavered then refocused.
Here I am.
This is the blue sky and bright sunlight.
This is the taste of my coffee.
This is the texture of the arm of my chair.
This is the sound of bubbling water.
This is the smell of warm, spring air.
This is perfection. Now.
The ghosts of my mind dissolve and I am home.