Unchained Melody 1965

There's a clearing in the middle of a dense forest full of old trees. It's late spring or early summer; it looks like summer but is cooler. I'm lying on my back in the clearing, not in the middle but closer to an edge, and I have headphones on. I'm watching the clouds make pictures, like I used to when I was younger. The sky is the deep, never-ending blue that only it can be, and the clouds stand out against it very clearly. Through the music coming from my headphones I can still hear the animals in the forest; birds singing and chatting, squirrels rustling the leaves, and the occasional snap of a twig. Everything is calm and peaceful, but I'm not sleepy and feel no urge to nap. Instead I just keep watching the clouds, finding all sorts of things in them. Rabbits, dragons, boats. Every cloud tells me a story, and I am only too willing to listen. I stay there until the sun begins to set, then I walk back home through the already dark forest. I'm not worried about getting lost or meeting a bear. All I feel is a deep sense of peace.