When it rains after a long dry spell I sleep a special kind of deep sleep, different though not better or worse than napping on a hot day. It's a cool, slippery kind of sleep, mysterious and full of graceful omens. Sometimes it's a little scary, but somehow peaceful at the same time, how the falling water carries my subconscious away and how everything, even my heartbeat, my breath, the pulse of blood changes with that first rain. It's beautiful, but not as beautiful as when I wake up in the darkest time to rain. The sound and scent and blissful cool soothe the heat from a weary body and parched skin drinks in moisture, easing pain so slight and pervasive only its absence is felt.
The rain dilutes itself over time, and I'll begin to drown as the rainy season floods my senses. But in the beginning ... it's liquid magic.