“I’ll walk, thank you.” I lean forward and push onto my feet, but then I find myself floating two or three feet above the chair. Probably as an outward expression of my consternation, I find myself spinning in slow, willy-nilly, spiraling circles above the doctor’s desk. I look briefly down on him. He is turning the pages of his notebook. Evidently, not aware I am hovering over him, he is scratching an armpit, reading, nodding.