One thing at Harry Potter World that caught me off-guard was my reaction to the rides - at the Gringotts Banks and Hogwarts. Both of these are indoor roller coasters, with projections (3D in Gringrotts), and largely in the dark.
I was not expecting my reaction to be one of deep relaxation. The moment the safety bars were in place and the ride started, I went to a place of complete comfort. I could have ridden in those all day.
This is not the usual roller coaster reaction. So, of course, being me, I had to analyze. I think that between the safety bars (at Hogwarts you also had one that came down over your shoulders) and the G-forces, there was pressure on my body. Remember the fad a few years back for weighted blankets? They felt wonderful, but, alas, they were really hot and almost impossible to wash. You don't hear much about them any more. Other things that come to mind is the practice of swaddling babies, or the squeeze box (invented by Temple Grandin) used to calm hypersensitive persons by applying pressure. Or, if you're lucky, getting a big bear hug from someone you trust. Calming pressure.
And then there was the obscure warmth. That's a term I like; I read it somewhere when it was talking about how cats can find obscure warmth. You want to know where a warm spot is on a cold day? Watch where your cat is sleeping. Maybe in a beam of sunlight or near a heat register or where their human has recently been sitting. And in the rides, from time to time a dragon would roar and shoot flames and you would get a blast of heat (the same when the dragon on top of the Gringott's bank would belch flame.) A momentary obscure warmth.
The past few years I find myself seeking out obscure warmth. Like many things, it's a reaction to losing Bob. He was a human radiator (poor man would find himself trying to sleep in the winter with myself and a load of cats piled up on him.) I loved that I could feel his warmth just being near him. When he died and his face had gone cold, for some reason I reached under the blanket for his hand. I remember giving a soft gasp; his hand was still warm. I cradled it to my face, knowing that it would be the last time I would feel that big warm hand gentle against my cheek. Then I tucked it back under the covers, because I wanted to remember that feeling. I didn't want to feel his hand grow cold.
Now I seek out obscure warmth. Sometimes I sleep on the couch, both for the comfort of feeling pressure my back, and for the transfer of my own body heat to the couch radiating back to me. When I read in bed at night, I have my "cuddle" pillow on my lap to hold my book; when I lay down to sleep, the pillow has gotten warm and I can snuggle my cheek in it and feel comforted. I like pushing a cat off my "my" place on the couch and feeling their warmth when I sit down. Stepping from the shade into the sun. Feeling the steam from a fresh cup of tea rising around my face as I drink.
Or standing with my arms held out, waiting for the dragon's flare.
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