A glimmer of perception.

      Miasar sat in her high-backed chair, gazing into the glowing moss circle atop her sanctuary glass table. Many times when inspiration came upon her, she would rush up to her tower chamber and deposit her thoughts into the spongy compartments of the media that was to all appearances a plant. On this night however, the situation was different and no ideas flowed easily from her imagination. Little things distracted her, the sound of music from a nearby home, the tightness of material on her arms or the pressure of stone against her lower spine. Still, she remained respectfully sitting, in full confidence that something would come if she had enough patience.

      She needed to focus. How could she get any complete thoughts if her mind kept slipping away into new avenues of possibility? She felt frustration building and the unwelcome sensation of prickly tears trying to build up through her inner nose. For a moment she let her mind wander through memories of daily events that had captured her interest. But she still had to snap herself back and once again focus on the bright blue moss circle. A need for expression should not be so easily put aside.

      Why was her concentration flying apart so consistently? She shook her head in silent dismay. If only she had more persistence perhaps she would be able to turn her successes from random chance to dependable occasions. Was it a matter of breaking a bad habit or was her character flaw a permanent fate with no hope of redemption? Miasar looked out to the sky to gage the passage of time and realized how many star-angles she had been wasting on her personal worries. Again her head shook in quiet reproach. Then, from the corner of her eye she saw a flicker of movement.

      "Ah," she said aloud, "Here comes something."

      At first the focus was blurry, as parts of the glowing moss came together forming an image. There was a space with a single light source and it appeared to be night. The image steadily grew more complete and Miasar investigated with all her senses. She heard music coming from a female voice with no visible physical source. She also heard a soft hum and a sound like a steady breeze. Near a window was a large square shape with a metal flower inside it, and another smaller version sat nearby with its flower moving quickly, pushing the air to create a swooshing wind.

      Miasar bent closer to see the shape which was closest to the light source. There seemed to be a life-form lying on a large cushioned surface. But wait! There were two life-forms, but one was sleeping. How strange that it should be sleeping now, she thought. She turned back to the life-form closest to the light, pulled her focus and settled it down into her glowing circle. She could feel her curiosity growing as the details of her perception developed with higher clarity. She seemed to be in a position situated above the person, because she could see the back and hair but not a face. She saw a large blue blanket covering the person's lower body. For some reason Miasar was very sure that this person was a female and apparently, she was interested to find, quite naked. She marveled and laughed a bit at the discovery.

      The woman had herself propped up on one elbow and when at one point she leaned back to stretch, Miasar could see that she had a large white rectangle before her. When the woman leaned back over, she was making dark markings on the rectangle with a long thin instrument of some sort. Miasar found it all very satisfying. Normally she did not peer into her moss and see such extraordinary sights. These discoveries she had recently made seemed to flow from a place rather different from her normal circle processes.

      She brought her attention back to the lady and her strange activities. Miasar went into the image deeper, using her curiosity to push down like an anchor, until she could read the markings on the rectangular surface. She was pleased to learn that the thing in the woman's hand was a 'pen' and that she was 'writing' on some 'notebook paper'. These terms were foreign to her, but immediately they found a place in her brain to be translated into a computable logic. Again, with curiosity peaked, she pushed farther in, attempting to decipher the scribblings on the paper. This time it was much harder to focus. Her attention was thrust away like a ball being sucked down a powerful vacuum tube.

    The woman before her became restless, perhaps because she had been writing in one position for such a while. Miasar felt some compassion for her, with her own knowledge of staying in uncomfortable stances while pursuing a need to release ones inner creative spirit. She mentally smiled and put down her concentration again, doubling the effort to comprehend the woman's writing. She began to read, and in a moment of shock, realized she was seeing her own name.

      "What?!" she cried aloud in disbelief.

      Her logic kicked in and she thought that surely there must be a sane explanation. She continued to read the woman's ruminations and was surprised to find a description of her own current situation placed down in ink by this odd lady before her. Was it possible that this woman was looking at her in much the same manner that she was looking down upon the woman? Miasar did not see a glowing circle in the woman's chamber. She sensed no psychic ability in the human's chromosomal systems. The woman thought that what she wrote came from her imagination only. Still, the uncanny ability that was hers was indeed a marvel to discover. To be able to perceive another reality, even without realizing the depth of truth discovered was wondrous for Miasar to behold.

      Miasar pulled back and let her consciousness inhabit completely within herself again. She felt the gentle waves of mercury gasses floating through her gills. She had awe for her four arms as though she had not been born with them. All things seemed to be perceived through fresh eyes after such an alarming experience in perception. She knew that a piece of her consciousness would always have a place in that woman who wrote down their briefly shared reality.