Negative Space

I remember the distantly familiar comfort. I never felt it, I know I could never be so fortunate, but I've dreamt it. I've dreamt of the weightlessness of it. I imagine it to be something like floating through space. When I remember the dream, I remember the warmth and softness of the place. Little specs of light darting aimlessly from one spot to another in what I can only think of as their own little world. Each seeming completely removed from the others, lost, but just fine like that. I remember someone told me it was bliss.
I remember the bliss always as if I'd been there.