I was getting acupuncture and I realized I could leave my body, so I did. I left room and floated into a courtyard feeling both excited and very calm about what was happening. I noticed the bricks and the landscaping and the muted light. Then I realized my session would be over soon and I should get back to my body or I’d lose it, something like death. When I returned, I realized I didn’t know how to get back in, which I thought was funny. None of this was frightening. I decided to lie on top of myself and shimmy and wiggle back into my body, and was overwhelmed with the sense of comfort I felt that I fit so well. I noted that my out-of-body elbows fit into my body-elbows like a key in a lock. It was deeply satisfying. Things went dark for a bit, then my acupuncturist, who somehow knew what had just happened, was ticking my neck and making crisp little whisper sounds in my ear, in the way that gives you the chills. I knew she was doing this because it was important to come back into your body through a small, focused area. When I was fully awake and gathering my things to leave, we had a little dispute about the ownership of two identical bags of cat toys, one of which I knew was mine. I don’t have a cat.