the ocean floor

When I was a child, maybe 8 or 9, I had a dream that I was standing on our brown oval wooden footstool and I stood there and felt peaceful and everything was okay and I leaned forward, the space around me clear but thick as honey. I leaned forward and lay down in the air, only a few feet off the ground, and I felt just right. I moved my arms and legs slowly swirling and was swimming through the livingroom into the hallway by the door we used (where the milk was delivered and closest to the driveway, but not the front door of the home: our front door but not the front door). I recall easily the feeling of resting so peacefully off of the ground, just flowing smoothly through, not flying, but close to it.
On the ocean floor it can be no moon no stars in the woods dark, if it’s deep enough. When I’m down there and I’m walking around and not bothered by the need for breathing and it’s okay because I’m just flowing around and through. I walk walk slowly walk along the sand there are no rocks here that would hurt my feet. There are large boulders that seem strong and there is some light when I’m higher nearer to the sun but I am so deep in I don’t see the ocean’s surface. It’s where I am and want to be and it is so quiet.