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Life is swarming back under his eyelids and the room readjusts itself to waking vision. For a second he is surprised. Besides him on the narrow bed is a long limbed body. She faces away from him and he recognises the arch of her spine. He is only lightly awake and his dreams threaten to pull him back under. Just awoken confusion seagues into the understanding that, yes, she is back in his life, in his bed, lying there like she never left or even like he never pushed her away. She is more relaxed than she ever was before. The pleasure of her sleeping form surrounds him and he smiles. She would always be awake when he came to and now he has a chance to see her unmoored. Light sweeps out from the flimsy curtain, the room is golden, the hairs on the back of her neck are golden, everything is startlingly flooded. He didn't expect to feel like this. Somewhere in the centre of him a sweet potentiality unfolds. he wants to sleep tangled up in her but won't touch her, won't break the spell. Lowers his head back onto the pillow as everything turns again to light in the little room and he curves himself around her frame, not touching but connected. Her sleep is invioable and it pulls him tidally, lazy waves bringing him down into her oceans. Sleep sifts through him, he hangs on the edge of the tide. She pervades him. Though he does not dream of her, her presence covers everything all new thoughts are tinged with her. Her skin, he is close enough to breathe the back of her neck, is tinged with salt-smell and warmth. He is pleasurably surprised time after time to realise that it is her real self that bends towards him. He had not known his mistake was so easily undone and its undoing reminds him of hymns...ask...all you had to do is ask...
Let me take you down. Their dreams run together and together form an ocean. The blue is dark and clear at once. Everything is filtered through blue. She is the sea and he drifts upon her. He does not fear death by drowning. She holds him. A swell of trust. They swim in unison and without clumsy human flailings, bodies flux and curl around the water. A beat and a beat dancing down to the sea floor. From the other's head and back and forth the imagery sieves in pieces in air bubbles in water fragmented light. There are pearlescent caves and clouds above them of silver fish that dart and break and move in time. The dream has encompassed them in the pink inner ear of a spiral shell. They float. Everything is held in time.
On the dream's surface where the deep-sleeping forms still crescent on the single bed he smiles in his sleep. The smile warms its way through the back of her head. It hangs in her mind and then spreads a final tendril and she is also forming a soft semi-parted smile. Below the dream they are still moving in languid time, heads bent upwards to the sea-surface which is the mother of all golden leaves. Their shared dream is manifesting itself in their shared sleep smile. Further than that, each cell is growing from it a glowing line so that the sleeping bodies are soon swarmed in a web of them and binding. The heart chakras are pouring light and light that meets the other and suffuses into still more beautiful light. The sea-dream has washed up trust. Trust is now a thing between them. The idea of love is planted, the moment unimpeded. Time hangs as it should on the present. In the depths of their sleep there is no retribution and no blame, the fear of hurt and the memory of hurt seem to never have existed. The potential of love flickers, at once the seed, the root, stem, flower and fruit. Future and past snapshots coallesce. The light is surely getting in though the offering remains imperfect. In the stillness of dreams it no longer matters that they have each hurt the other. Sleep has suspended them in honesty, the protective curve of their spines, the symbiotic dive, are incapable of saying anything but yes yes this is right yes I feel for you I feel what could be and what is. Hands laze over bodies. Their faces, their limbs are utterly soft. Peaceful but alert in the moment. Full of it. The light in the small room where clothes are crumpled on the floor the glitter and blue of the huge private ocean the glowing bands that have been written between them. Swimming up they break the surface. His hair captures rainbows, haloing him. Hers fans into wet spears, it is new spring grass. Skinny arms wrap skinny arms. The sea drops that are jewelling them mesh. Warmth and salt water. The air is filled. Rainbow rainbow. Their dance, these dancers, are inseparable from that of the sea. It is no longer possible, it cannot be told, who is who what is happening. It is prismed and merged. Sunlight through it all.
The dream will live in the second skin of the two dancer swimmers. Gliding beneath the hardness of everyday it becomes the germinate. It must carry them through all the winding inevitable talk . In the wake world in the never-existing future there will be things said sorting out to do so that we know where everybody stands and open ourselves with more everything to what this could be. It has to be so. But the trace imagery of dreams shared on this, the morning which disposes of the least responsibility, overlays and transforms bitterness. Left sifting in our souls is the trust of the swell and the sea-fragmented light, the idea of love. |
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