something vague that we're not seeing

My uncle, Mr. Crosby, was driving. I could see his eyes watching me through the rearview mirror, worried. Feeling bad for this, I told him I was taking a nap and that he could wake me when we got to San Francisco or somewhere beautiful. He lowered his head and nodded.

The next thing I knew, twilight had begun. The sky was an incredible purple; lit with bits of stars, like broken glass, anticipating their own failure as the fight to outshine the sun carries on. I'm lead by Crosby to a door which says---Exit Only.

Blurry eyed and foggy I stumble up the steep stairs, and into a dark room; thin slivers of neon lights streaking the smokey air. The music is almost unbearable. It's so loud I cannot even hear it, only feel it inside my chest. It's vibrating my nerves so intensely that I feel they're strumming the song itself.

But then you're there and the world disappears and makes sense. Then what do I do? Fall. Fall and spill someone's glass of water. You're a DJ and I'm a mess. Feeling all the wrong things at all the right moments.

You're jumping and spinning. It's like a scene from True Romance. And as I look up at you from still down below, I think, at least I've made it this far.