You're up in a hammock, in the tops of the trees of the never ending rain forest. It's warm and slightly humid, but you don't mind because you're so peaceful, your head lulling against the soft blanket of leaves that someone else carefully weaved. The sun isn't directly in your face, only glancing through a slight branch that blocks your view. Even so, it beats down on you; hot waves tingling your body.
You're swaying, very gently, calmly, no breeze to push you, yet you are still swinging, your hammock carrying you to a little humming tune of the forest. Every time you rock left, you are in brief contact with the edge of a wet tropical leaf that leaves a droplet of dappled water on your skin. It's cool and refreshing.
Though it is peaceful and quiet, it is not silent. The forest has its own rhythm, the gentle murmur of the insects on the ground, the rustling prowl of the tiger, moving in for the kill, the distant sound of monkeys, hooting with laughter and the hissing of the vipers that slither through the undergrowth.
You notice a flock of colourful birds swim into your view, silent, swift and beautiful. You wonder momentarily what it would be like to be a bird, able to soar through the sky, a free soul, and singing and chirping with all your might, but within seconds, this thought slips away, and you fade back into semi – unconscious.