Last night I woke up in the night, as I usually do to meditate in the early hours, but it was somewhat before the early hours - about 02:30. I felt as if I were a gas that had been compressed into the liquid state. My body surface felt like it was bulging all over to contain the liquid and prevent it spurting out. Although my body was not sweating, it was radiating heat all over. I was able to breathe, but I was gasping, as if the air were very low in oxygen. I staggered to the bathroom muttering, "Get me out of this body!" (that makes me laugh, now that I am "safe" again!) I remembered this had happened once before, but this time it was much clearer. After a few minutes of walking around, I started to feel "grounded" again. Hooray! Back to bed to sit up and start my meditation.
I sleep with the window uncovered, as I love the velvety night sky, the sleeping trees and the little solar lights in the garden. During the meditation, that environment outdoors was perfectly silent, with a buoyant, living sort of silence. My ears began "breathing". Breathing the silence in, breathing the silence out. My ears were the portals of my body, for exchanging the lively silence between the inside and the outside. I could feel my ear canals opening up and sort of twitching very gently, to act as "transmitters" of silent sound waves (the sound waves were silent, but very lively, and very structured and orderly). They say you can put a conch shell to your ear, and hear the sea. I've done that; but this time, it was my ears themselves that were the conch shells, and the sea was silent, but very lively.