The light outside the window coalesces to a point, a small and dim one, so far away. It’s the moon, you realize. The moon is rising outside your window, but even on the horizon, it’s as small as if it were at the top of the sky. As the light grows further, it eventually forms a dim but visible shaft from the window, falling across your bed. The moon continues to rise, changing the shaft’s angle downward. Now to the floor, now sweeping across it.