Dreamland

To navigate would imply a map, or some semblance of direction. In the far distance I see her, me. Am I water, or land? Am I pushing the great trek through mountains and rivers? Or am I bobbing on the waves, praying for a place to let down the anchor. Am I lost in the desert of my subconscious, trudging towards a mirage that will bring me closer to nowhere..

In my dreams I see the apocalypse of my anxiety. A fireball crashing down to the earth of my being, tearing apart my fibers until a hole emerges of what once was. In my dreams I do not hold my breath or squeeze my legs to my chair. I do not hold my head so close to my desk that I can see the fog of oxygen expand around papers. I do not close my skeleton so tight that a simple walk down the block forces my hips to expand and my lower back to ache. I dream of a fireball crashing down to the earth of my being, tearing about my fibers until a hole emerges of what once was; she.

What if dreams are flashbacks of a previous life? I don’t mean the sleep kind, I mean the awake dreams.. The imagination that steers us to our goals. What if we are reaching for memories of past lives? What if I’ve already been a singer, a dancer.. Am I am in an infinite loop of my own self prophecy? What if my dreams are memories, and to fully survive I must move past my soul’s memories and create a new story. Is intuition simply the knowledge of our loop.

You can see why my work moves at the pace of a rainforest sloth. At some point in my life a dam was built where a river once stood in my brain. My thoughts are like single use plastics, they collect and clog the mouth of the dam.. they trap tiny water creatures like turtles and frogs. They slow the movement of my mind, the reservoir. A dam is an unnatural occurrence.

So if my mind is a reservoir than maybe water is what I seek, and right now I am on the great trek. But it has to be recent contextually if I (or others) have the technology and understanding to build a dam in my mind. So I’m feeling as though my life right now is like a mid 20th century hike. I’m naked because that sounds like freedom. My feet hurt, and I am thirsty. I have heard of the waves across the rocks and I am set to go there. But are the waves a memory of my soul? Perhaps I have already met the ocean. Perhaps I’ll hang out here, naked in the forest, and see what I can make of it.

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