Music drifts from the next room and you are already humming it, with no memory of where it started or whose it was. Neptune, the part of you that softens hard lines and leans toward the boundless, holds a smooth trine to your Part of Fortune, the spot your chart builds from Ascendant, Sun, and Moon by sect, where your life settles with the least fuss. The dreaming is poured into that place already. Compassion and wonder move through you unforced, the seen and the felt bleeding gently into one. Other people strain to imagine; the image just rises for you, unbidden. No vision is being awarded here. The mist and the easy ground were the same quiet water from the first.