Harper had no concept of time—or even space; but little by little, she became more aware. Whether she was floating, flying, or still, she couldn’t tell. She felt contained within a blue-black sheath, not crowded, but definitely restricted. She wasn’t sure of much at all except that she felt almost awake—kind of like when you are on the edge of a dream and yet aware that you are waking up. It was odd, and she was having a hard time remembering how she had gotten there—here. Every so often, spinning pinpoints of white light punctuated the darkness, turning and swirling, rising upward. She would follow the motion, but whether she was seeing or just feeling the lights, she couldn’t tell. She felt like her name was in the lights; but again, whether she felt or heard her name called, she had no idea. Existence was real, but a jumble. The thought came to her that this must be what it feels like before birth—darkness; awareness; silky fluid; squeezed, but moving; awake, but asleep.
She felt no pain, and probably couldn’t have even told you in that moment what pain was. Yet, she knew her name; and every time she heard it called into the indigo night, she tried to move towards the source. She vaguely remembered what it was like to move, but she was unsure as to how that worked in this place.
How long she stayed in the soupy world she moved in, she couldn’t tell; but when words circled above her head where the light coalesced, she felt drawn closer and closer.
“Harper . . .”
She formed a thought: “Yes, I’m here.”
“Harper . . .”
She didn’t feel anxious at all. Strangely, she rested in a peace that she had never even imagined possible. The lights swirled and moved, faster and faster, brighter and brighter, changing from white to variegated colors and back to glistening white. She felt as if she was being propelled upward toward the brilliance; till all of sudden, all motion stopped. And she fell softly downward like a leaf toward the bottomless ink. Lights faded away. Darkness engulfed her. Before all consciousness left her once again, a lyrical voice surrounded her, covering her like a warm blanket: “In the world you will have tribulation, Harper; but I have overcome the world. I have overcome the world.” And she settled down into the soft and silent blue-black.