Spiritual possession

Through an opal window I saw a cloud, changing colors from blue to orange to red, like a burning fire. I was swept off my feet, floating on a bridge between this world and the next. My body no longer in my possession, I hear voices beyond my choices, juggled on a hawser like a puppet on strings ~ my entire being a vessel laden with spirits. The voices were raucous, filled with a mixture of rancour and candour ~ evidence of my traipse between realms, and drifting swaps between wakefulness and dreams. An admixture of languages ~ glossolalic, angelic, and carnal, ricocheted from my ears to my chest, yet none I could understand; I was a stranger found in a manger by a ranger. Far below my feet were faces in beige, white, and different shades of brown; high above my head were lineaments gleaming in stainless hues of white. Then the angels breathed into my ears, and their languages became clear; they spoke in whispers, and I strained to listen. But when I spoke, my words were carnal – the language of those below – understood by them, but no longer by me. All I said turned their fantasies to ecstasies. They shouted, "Hallelujah," and my feet quivered; I was left stranded before I crash-landed back into my body.