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I left myself on the bed. I don't know whether I was asleep, awake, or maybe somewhere in-between in that strange dream time between consciousness and pure magic. It seemed so easy just to let go of my heavy daily life and to just fly. My window beckoned me and tempted me to fly into the cool night air. The sky was so free. It seemed so natural just to fly and to glide. Within a few seconds I had control of my direction and altitude, and I just went up at first, purely for the enjoyment of rising. There was no friction. I could go as high as I liked, and as far as I liked. The town below looked so unreal. Could anyone see me up here? What would they think? At first I thought I was alone. Everyone was asleep below, or so I believed. Then I saw sparks around me. Those sparks had faces and kindness in their eyes. We all flew towards the light of the moon. The moon was everything. Her light was our love. I felt so high and I knew that everything was all right. There was so much potential up there in the dreamy skies but I needed to go down and fly through the forests and into the lakes. I needed everything and I felt everything. I flew across a moonlight river and followed its snaking path across the world. I was alone again and I flew to the horizon and over it into a dream of golden wheat fields. The sun was everywhere and the sky was a golden glow. Yet I was alone and I had a meeting in the temple on the horizon. It stood there Aztec and shimmering in the haze of my imagination. Profoundly beautiful and real like the taste of love. I flew through the doorway and met God in his house. His face was ever changing and I knew him as a brother. Dream brother, I implored him to tell me the secrets of this dream, to let me know the warmth of the golden sun. He smiled and said to wait, and I found myself under the sea. So deep and blue. The water was so warm and alkaline. It tasted of tears and the loss of life. But so warm and inviting were the songs of the myriad creatures that glided though the stillness that I was tempted to stay. But no, on I must go into the Gulf Stream of consciousness, onto the shore and the sand of the beaches of my new-found child grace. I made castles out of seashells and crystals and made my home there amongst the candy-floss and ice cream. But still I knew I must go on searching until I found the essence of this golden dream. Where is my child love? Dream lover too long away from the love I had to give. Then I flew again for the last time in this song, into the white clouds, and I heard her speak my name. The name I had always had. My lover. Then I awoke alone. Where is she now? When will I see her face and know her love? |
Paul Sloman