It was as before. It was as if Ginny was lying in bed, in a half-asleep, half-awake limbo where everything floated and misted over. Her mind was trying to pick everything over and decipher what was happening and what wasn't, what was dream and what was reality.
It was then that it would happen to her. Ginny's floating limbo would crumble around her, and she would realize with a sickening jolt to her stomach that she was falling, tumbling through space at an alarming rate. It was then that she would jerk awake, aggravated that the tantalizing sleep she longed for kept jumping out of her grasp. She would, eventually, fall back into the limbo, only to repeat the same feeling: the sickening twist her stomach made, and her terrified heart pumping blood and adrenaline through her veins, her mind and body falling helplessly towards nothing, such as when coming down on a swing. Except the plunging continued.
She felt that way now, as if she was falling towards nothing, and everything seemed hazy and dreamlike around her.
Until she realized that the dream was reality, the haze was the black, rainy sky, and the nothing towards which she was rapidly tumbling was the cold, unforgiving ground.