Deep into the rain

Do you have sometimes this feeling of irreality, when everything around you seems painted and is so unreal that looks ideal? Maybe this feeling appeares when there's a Christmas tree in front of you but instead of familiar smell of tangerines you're surrounded by the tropical rain and palm trees and you run in this heavy warm rain to the swimming pool and after you drink hot tea and read a book and it is still raining. A big house is lazy and calm. It is not your home, you know it. But you've been travelling for so long that it doesn't matter any more what place is yours. You're everywhere and nowhere, you're in a dream. Music plays and if you've heard it before you fall into past, and two places, where this music ever existed, become one - just more irreality. The Beatles fit this world, make this dream deeper.
I'd like to paint it but it is the same as painting some picture inside another picture. But if I could, it would be a circle: Alex and his ukulaile and the room around him:  a round sofa, a round cofee table with a round plate on it, a round window and even the breath of the air-conditioner would be round. And everything is moving slowly following the rain and John Lennon. Transparent world.