When I woke, I was swallowed by a white so absolute it erased edges. There was no horizon, no ceiling, and there was only a flat, humming emptiness that felt less like space and more like a held breath. The first time I'd come here it had stunned me. This time the wonder had been peeled away by familiarity until the place felt like an old room I'd forgotten I owned.
I lay there for a moment, trying to place myself. There was something firm beneath me, a plane of resistance that said "floor," but when I glanced down my eyes found nothing to grab onto. It was as if I floated on a surface you couldn't see. There was something that was solid enough to stand on, but ghostly enough to deny substance. The oddness of it made the skin on my arms prickle.
