On a sleeping bag

Time passes as you drift through a dreamless sleep. Not that you're in any position to judge, but it feels like a lot of time.

Your first thought is: Since when is my bed this soft?

You second thought is: Why is my ceiling so far away?

Your third thought isn't particularly coherent, but it contains a lot of swearing. You stumble to your feet and look around. You're in the living room. There's a general detritus of spilled popcorn and empty snack containers that suggest the sleepover is winding down. Soft snoring comes from a few sleeping girls, some on the floor and one on the couch. There are distant voices, though, so clearly not everyone is asleep yet...

At this point your train of thought runs off a cliff, because something that's been bugging finally refuses to be ignored any longer. The perspective is wrong. You stood up, you remember doing it, but your viewpoint is still near the floor as if you were still lying down. You look down at yourself. Yup, there you are, standing. It's... it's almost like you were... less than an inch tall...?

Your stomach twists nauseously as the scene snaps into new perspective. The soft thing you're standing on is a sleeping bag. There is someone inside it, sleeping. And you are the size of a bug. That's... not good...

You feel a strange calmness that's probably the first stage of shock settle over you. You have no idea how to act in this situation. For lack of any better idea you start to hike to the top of sleeping bag, you guess you might as well see who you're standing on...