submersion

Vivid dreams lately, lots of them, every night. OK, I suppose there are always lots of them, but lately they stick with me through that slow first half of the day. Probably because the first halves of days are slower now, which I like, a lot. Anyway, the common element, which doesn't surprise me, is water. Mmmm, water. These parched Minnesota winters always make me crave submersion. Just for fun, a sampling:

tide's moving out quickly. bubbles at the water's edge. they shine a hundred reflections of a fat moon behind me. i smell her warm, salty breath as she swells, careens in at me, then traipses off. and again. and again, running farther from me each time. my dream ocean, she always teases me. i chase her, want to dance. i'm laughing, i'm sighing. i want her wet, silky embrace, but all she wants is a game of footsy, toe to toe, laughing and sighing from a distance.

one, two, three, breathe, one, two, three, breathe. rhythm, strength, balance, glide. stroking across the surface, too fast to look for treasures in the sand below. forearm brushes left ear, head snaps to the right, mouth clears surface, lungs fill with air, stroke, exhale, stroke, exhale, stroke, exhale, breathe other side. lunge forward as thumb brushes thigh, glide as arm swings tightly overhead. strong back, no pain anywhere. the speed, exhilaration and perfection of a flying dream, but more real because the resistance of the water is so true. hours and hours of perfect breathing.

my favorite, no breathing at all. that other universe without gravity, without air, without a memory of ever having, wanting, needing either one. very blue, dark sometimes, light sometimes, dappled too. perfectly quiet but not frighteningly silent. i roll into a ball, fall backward, spin forward, kick off, straighten out, then twist into a moving corkscrew, seeing the sun up there go by as i stretch out on my back and keep gliding forever.

very blue sky. i'm trying to remember which crayon color that is, when a burp on the water's surface gets my eye looking for that fish and i see i'm very close to the edge, perched on a jagged little rock. the water is Caribbean green and glowing with mystery. what's down there? something strange, wait, there, no there, the light keeps moving and shadows keep redrawing the thing, if it's even a thing and not a Rorschach made of sandy trenches. it's a book. that magically old fairy tale book i read a thousand times until i loaned it to someone who didn't give it back and never saw it again. god i hated that lesson. there it is, how did it get down there? no, it's just a pile of rocks. not rocks, jewels. no, just rocks. wait, it's those rocks. the rocks i collected for three years and kept in two shoe boxes in the garage. for studying. to be a geologist. until mom threw them out when we moved. told her not to. there they are. no, it's a shark, a dead shark, now it's gone, but there's its tooth. that one i found in a cliff in newport bay. 8 million years old and i found it and my teacher borrowed it after show-and-tell so she could show the other classes and then the next day and the next day and the next day told me she couldn't find it. bitch. there it is. no, it's a red bicycle, the one i gave to my neighbor to bring to her nephew in mexico. but it's all rusty now. now it's a big computer, mutated in a dr. seuss kind of way. it's all the computers i've ever touched, patched and taped together into a monster computer. and it perches on a ragged stand made out of my carpal tunnel arm braces. oh, creepy, creepy, there are faces down there now, people, lots of people, and they all want me to come in and talk to them or listen to them. they're lonely. some are excited. but they all want my attention. it's hot out here and i feel suddenly self-conscious standing out here by myself with no explanation for what i'm doing here. i should jump in the water so i'm doing something to explain why i'm here. but i don't know what's in there, whatever it is, it's old and i don't want to touch it. i walk, barefoot, over more jagged rocks, looking for an empty, clear tidepool to dip my feet in.

my eyes are closed and i refuse to open them. sun's so bright, it's like my eyes are open anyway. i smell sunscreen and frut juice and salt, salt, salt, and seaweed and plastic toys. my body is rocking and i feel firm styrofoam under my shoulder blades. i must be on my boogie board and it must be a calm ocean today. kids are laughing far away. my face and my shoulders are hot and my dangling feet are cool. my eyelids are glowing orange. i won't open them. i'd rather be surprised by a big wave or a visiting dolphin.

... Just a sampling. Yeah, I guess I miss the ocean. Thank god for dreaming.