“Any time I need to see your face I just close my eyes / And I am taken to a place…”

Walking through cloudmistdreamland, describing the surreality of the night until the phone call is interrupted by the other party saying Hold that thought as they go brush their teeth, with the tone of giving instructions to watch their phone, lest it sprout legs and scurry off like a paramecium insect, like an animated footstool in, say, “Beauty and the Beast”, and when you bring the phone back out of the peripheral vision of the mind’s eye it is no longer a phone, but the scurrying footstool, until you look at it and it stops scurrying and waits for you to look away again.

“…I don't need to try to explain / I just hold on tight…”