The Bubble

I remember that night when my mind took a walk on its own. Not in as a dream, but like an inquisitive dog escaping through an open gate. Like a child living in a bubble, just rolling around a strange land, where mind saw itself reflected through that transparent balloon. The day after I tried to piece together what I’d seen. I know there was a man, a stick figure with a head as big as a solar flare, he just waved to me as I passed-by. A black cat with seven eyes. It said it was an angel. An infant about my age, grey haired and chortling happily. Today I’m only reporting what I saw, tomorrow I may burst that bubble and totally fall out of myself.