A creative voice I thoroughly admire reentered my awareness this weekend. His words bridged something in my mind and I knew I needed to change the name of my collection of stories. This new naming feels more right.
“The world is not my own, I’m just passing through” ~Tom Waits
I was unprepared and unprotected.
The intensely jumbled mess overpowered me as well as the electric fear coursing through me.
And so I slept.
In my dreams I saw myself climbing aboard a large vessel of sorts.
I began to travel fast and far with strange creatures.
Though I was scared of this new sensation and these odd beings, I was exhilarated too.
Scared to leave behind all I knew, all I lost, yet accepting this turn of fate, I told myself to wake up.
The first thing I noticed was the soft sweetness enveloping me like tufts of rabbit fur smelling of lavender.
But what I saw next befuddled and shocked me.
It was becoming difficult to keep my eyes open and the smells around me were muddled.
I let out the loudest sound I could muster, barely recognizing myself, and sunk into the soft dirt.
A large sound entered my groggy awareness and it got closer with every shallow breath I struggled for.
My heart began racing though I don’t know how it had the energy to do so.
I think it thought she was finally back.
Lost in my vivid waking dreams of warmth, safety, and joy, I barely noticed being gently lifted from my space.
I felt myself floating above the ground and slowly moving toward the light.
Oh please let it be her.
But blinding lights and crushing metallic sounds assaulted me instead.