With the roll steady I faced the window, through which both the moon and Venus could be seen shining on that particular night, in conjunction. I clearly remember seeing them and can picture them now, because they were spectacularly close together. Standing between them I stood stock still.

Apart from my right arm, that is, which was busy from the elbow out, apparently winding something up that was seriously heavy. Perhaps the actual universal time piece. The movement had been clockwise.

I had always assumed that the world turned in 3 ways simultaneously, so in an attempt to get the third way right I turned in the opposite direction and started to make a slow elliptical movement with my hips, in a position facing the guitar case belonging to my boyfriend, that was propped against the wall.

For some reason this provoked an undeniable sense of danger which I tried in vain to place.

After a few seconds I was disturbed to realize that I had been unconsciously yet meditatively staring into the small silver clasps at the bottom of the case. These threw off a distinct enough reflection of myself to warrant a hasty turnaround.

At this point I struck the first of two strong convictions that I happened upon that night; namely: that I must at all costs avoid the sight of my own reflection whilst in that particular (alternative) state of consciousness. The second was about not being trapped in time.

After a few more disturbed gyrations, my actions somehow arrested by having thought too hard, I fell light-heartedly onto the bed and closed my eyes, feeling wonderfully satisfied with my spinning achievement.