The trees, speaking in dancing leaves, confirmed it to me. Droplets, amber, gold, marigold, little splatters of yellow dancing in lines against the white bark, this was it, that final dream. I was stepping across that indelible line marking each side. Sanity. Insanity. Here it was, the boundary at my feet, written in the sand by the passing of a thousand snakes. That indenible line, here at my feet. The trees confirmed it for me, they whispered at me to approach my fate. I did, hesitantly, with my eyes closed and my toes squeezing the cold sand into divots behind me, marking my passing for the next time. The gentle waves breaking around my toenails, my ankles, my shins, my knees, my chest, and then I was here, where there were no leaves. No meaning. Just calm floating. Voided sanity. That empty space where the indelible lines meet in your mind and shout out to look out and see something. So I opened my eyes. Slowly, for the water was up to my forehead, and this quiet voice in my head was whispering to be careful, don't look too closely. Things can change. You could be, they would say, that loud voice coming across the screen, screaming things, you could be. And what of this, here, with the opening eyes spraying water across my lids, the pressure of this indenible line collapsing into rivulets as I strained to see. What was it? And, they would say, as they do, that this was it, that which you already knew. This was it. And against my eyes the pressure of the sea released to me these flocks of butterflies floating against the tide, dancing for me just like the golden leaves of the trees. They spoke to me, and whispered to me they were it, the things in my brains, the tiny dots and fragrant spots on my mind that made me, and connected me to everything else. I could see them, where they sat against the sides of my eyesight, yellow and golden butterflies trailing dew drops of gentle light. Beautiful my mind whispered, and I whispered back, yeah, you see, that's you, don't you see? And as hard as I tried, the butterflies stayed there, right on the edge of my vision, floating to and from against the edges of where I could see, draping golden rain across my eyes, underneath the surface of this sea standing with my legs spread across that indenible line between sanity and insanity. I had to do it, that next step, even if it meant everything, and even if it meant everything badly, I was right there and the butterflies were too beautiful to stare at, or look after for too long. I didn't have time, and this was it, so I closed my eyes and waited for the water to recede. I waited and felt it against my scalp, around my ears, between my knees as the water moved away from me and the butterflies danced idly in that space between my eyelids and me. I felt the idleness inside me as the water became a light breeze lit by the fragrant sky, grass and cotton candy, and so many other things. I could say I had floated on past this place, but the sand was still there, beneath my feet, and if I looked down, even with my eyes closed, I could see that indelible line between all these connected things lying there between my feet. I could say I had floated on, and each had floated with me, but I wouldn't be sure if that was what I mean. Or what it meant, the butterflies and the line and the water and the breeze and everything, the rest just adding up to everything I couldn't comprehend connected to that indenible line, and, subsequently, connected to me. It didn't matter whether my eyes were open, or my toes were spread. It didn't matter whether I was underwater or standing on my head, surrounded by a thousand pine trees. That's what the voices were trying to tell me. It didn't matter about all these things, that indenible line was there, everywhere, and all you had to do was look. All you had to do was look, and listen. And so I did.