I had a dream once that I was cast out to sea.
That somehow, I had made it past all the waves and turmoil. Just slipped right past, away from the land in a tiny little dingy. And now I drift, weightless, over endless blue. Rocking in the sunshine, without thought, memory, or pains; just floating.
The waves rock me gently. The sea is always calm and the sky shines a brilliant blue and the sun beats down on me as I drift. And it doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t even burn me, though I realise that it should. I should be rubbed, red and raw by those damaging rays. I should be hungry and thirsty. I should feel seasick, but I don’t.
I barely remember what it was like to walk on solid ground, to pick fruit, to go indoors out of the rain, to seek comfort and shelter on long cold dark nights. Here I am with the sun, flying with my back sunk deep into the warm wooden panels that rock gently, reminiscent of changing tides and far off air currents throwing themselves against each other in violent displays of affection.
I breathe the in the fresh air and drink down the salt knowing eventually, soon, that this craft will fill.
I will grow too heavy for it, and we will sink down into the deep blue abyss, forgotten, lost, and done. I feel so numb and I can not move, can not fight, and can not scream. Instead, I sing out to that beautiful blue, a song of how happy I am to be here, in the sun.
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