You were sprawled out in bed, one foggy evening. You were currently in a state between being tired and being awake and present in the world. Positioned in your bed rather strangely, you stared up at your ceiling, zoned out enough to make you not want to move or reposition. I grew bored, myself. Your eyes closed before my gaze, which I used as an opportunity to manifest. The room around you grew dim, barely making a difference as your eyes remained shut. Before you, I manifested in your bed, sitting on the edge without weighing down the mattress, as if I didn’t weigh anything at all. I waited patiently for you to open your eyes, fixing my cosmic, metaphysical hair as I counted the seconds it took you to notice me.