This dialogue takes place immediately following Socrates’ encounter with Euthyphro in which they discussed the nature of what is holy versus what is unholy.  Socrates is sitting at the King’s Porch awaiting trial after having been indicted by Meletus for corrupting the young men of Athens.  After Euthyphro leaves, Socrates waits alone for a short while.  Then, Philip shows up.

I can feel myself drifting.  Like a heavy puff of cigar smoke in humid air, shifting, dispersing, yet still one entity.  What went before fades and I am left without perception, mere consciousness remains.  The vapor of my being stretches and the fear comes.  Is this the end?  Will the Divine hand wave me clear from space and time?  And then, like fog settling in the hollows, I come back together.  I collect in one spot, condensing from vapor to dew, the droplets run together and a puddle forms.  Weight returns and the empty rind fills with moist flesh.  Breath burns in my lungs like furnace heat.