Otatso Wetlands When I get low I prefer the cold

Reverie was, in fact, making bad times. But she did not hear him; she was occupied. The dark was shifting and the quiet became whispering, and she knew this place. Reverie blinked and came alive, but elsewhere:
A garden, overgrown in deep green, the air misty and cool from the touch of burbling waterways. Strange, she thought, and was startled to think so clearly. She stepped through the garden, following a rose-petal path while the real world swept on without her. Someone called to her. Rose? No, that wasn't her voice. Reverie did not recognize this voice, yet it sounded familiar. As if she'd heard it her whole life, as if she had never heard anything but this.
She realized the voice had called her Reverie. A deep shudder ran through her, one that carried to the real world as she jerked away from Qeorvik abruptly. Her expression was unchanged but she looked away from him and went still again. In her mind she was running. Not away, not in fear. She just wanted to see —
And the garden fell away as if it never existed at all, and she fell too. Into endless blue sky, into crisp air and gilded clouds; they were warm, like @Turmeric had imagined. Yet she fell through them and came away with fur drenched in gold, glittering, down down down
Reverie?
She closed her eyes.
Let me show you how we dance here.