Not only do you feel as if you are floating, but it’s clear that you are actually floating, up and up and up, as this rush of slightly tinted air—you figure that it’s helium—takes you higher. Indeed, you stretch out your arms and soar over the world. You’re not quite sure where you’re soaring, but you manage to take charge of this helium stream before its airiness takes charge of you.
Or, it feels like it, though you’re not quite sure if this sensation really is control. Nevertheless, you twist your hips around, so they’re facing the sky, and throw yourself downwards, as if you don’t give a flying flip about the helium stream.
After all, you figure that trying to go the other way with propel you away from this.
Turns out, you’re right. With a whole lot of unnecessary effort, you turn yourself over, and the stream falters. It blinks out like a faulty bulb—before letting you plummet—
This was not part of the plan. The control is gone. Vanished in the blinks of your now-watering eyes. Your body is seizing up, trying to curl inwards, and pain is content to save you.
Poetry aside, your mind goes into overdrive. What are you supposed to do? Obviously, plummeting to your death is not ideal—but since when have you been any sort of sky-diving (yes, taken literally here).
You curl up into a ball, thinking hard. Perhaps it’s magic, or perhaps it’s science, but something emerges out of the mire…