It was like rising up, up, up through a deep warm ocean,
nearer and nearer to full light and stirring air. Or like the return
to consciousness after concussion of the brain. I was once thrown
from a horse while on a visit to a wild mountainous country quite
new to me, and I can clearly remember the mental experience of
coming back to life, through lifting veils of dream. When I first
dimly heard the voices of those about me, and saw the shining
snowpeaks of that mighty range, I assumed that this too would
pass, and I should presently find myself in my own home.

That was precisely the experience of this awakening: receding
waves of half-caught swirling vision, memories of home, the
steamer, the boat, the airship, the forest--at last all sinking away
one after another, till my eyes were wide open, my brain clear,
and I realized what had happened.

The most prominent sensation was of absolute physical comfort.
I was lying in a perfect bed: long, broad, smooth; firmly soft
and level; with the finest linen, some warm light quilt of blanket,
and a counterpane that was a joy to the eye. The sheet turned
down some fifteen inches, yet I could stretch my feet at the foot
of the bed free but warmly covered.

I felt as light and clean as a white feather. It took me some
time to conscientiously locate my arms and legs, to feel the vivid
sense of life radiate from the wakening center to the extremities.

A big room, high and wide, with many lofty windows whose
closed blinds let through soft green-lit air; a beautiful room, in