She collapsed her hands into her lap and closed her eyes. Her fingers naturally interlocked. Behind her eyes her mind created a horizon line and colors from the lights above faded away. Colors paled and darkened. It was daytime and everything around was dark. It felt easy and she fell into an eased temperament where she was alone in the room and nothing could enter or exit, as there was nothing there. She calmed.
From blackness, colors shifted and melted away and back into the spectrum, creating a forward growing mood. Red and green showed themselves first through a blur and twirling pattern mixed in soft and warm and light to make her smile. Her head hurt. The colors continued to race through her mind, layering each one on top of the last to create new colors, swirls of dreamy watercolor.
Her eyes tightened and the colors grew and twisted and leapt forward like the beginning push of a slinky. Each looked like paint dripping: full, and thick, glossed. They interweaved and connected and crossed inside her head and bounced around.
The pattern finished and the colors dropped and spun themselves into kaleidoscope flowers and the lilac and cream orange and sherbet pink dazzled her. The flowers grew from the color vines and built onto themselves into a soundless garden. The flowers twirled in the windless blackness and she spun with them, herself slowly slipping into the feeling.
Her eyes opened again and she was in a world of color. Every object layered itself in what seemed psychedelic splatter. Everything was okay again. Through the windows, outside, the flowers smiled at her and she smiled back. The others were on the playground swinging on swings, legs in the air, or in the bark, throwing it. They avoided her as she walked out. Nature welcomed her. In that, nothing else mattered. She felt fine. No harm had been done. Good things only.