Fog

Heavy fog at night is magical. Catapulted from earth, you enter the heavens. Temporarily your car loses it's wheels, instead growing wings. Street lamps cast a dim orange glow that barely reaches it's intended destination. Your spaceship glides through the clouds, fueled by sweet music instead of fossil fuels. The contrast between city and country disappears as lights from nearby towns become distant galaxies. The occasional penetration of your personal sphere by oncoming spaceships seems friendly, their lights casting a halo. You fully believe that should you choose to stop connecting the white dashes that appear two at a time before you, that you would float into infinite softness.

Landing is the hard part. Gliding into a brightly lit box, you turn the key to the "off" position. WHAM! Back on earth.