I feel myself waking up as I become aware of the weight of my body and the sounds of the environment. Nearby, I hear the gentle lapping of the water against sand. Ah, that explains this coarse substance pressing against my cheek. I slowly open my eyes, wincing against the light, and can make out a sandy beach with long green stems growing from the sand and water lapping against the sand a little ways in the distance.

I roll onto my back and look up, still feeling like this is more than the usual amount of gravity. In the distance above me, I confirm what I had suspected: This isn't the beach but merely a memory of it, as I can see countless replicas of this scene looking down on me all around the sky. Each one, only a few metres in diameter with an image of me looking up.

It is strange that this is a place which usually represents a kind of longing, but I am becoming oddly comfortable with being here, in spite of that. I stretch and place my hands behind my head, watching each copy of me do the same thing at the same time.

I smile softly, feeling a strange kind of comfort. I don't need to be happy or feel fulfilled to at least realize that I am not alone if I can believe that there are others out there, probably many, tasting a flavour of the same sentiment. If I can believe that you exist, I can imagine that joy in finding each other, whatever manner of interaction may come.

I wonder what this beach actually looks like, these days,
...Nights