Thursday, August 19

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I practice on my tablet every day now. I want to be better at drawing. Perhaps now I could illustrate the covers of romance novels. *Sigh.*

Here is a song about sea sleepers.

((we are not perfect, but we should try))

In a parallel dream I longed us to be sea sleepers. Tethered to the ocean floor by our ankles we moved like seaweed with our eyelids closed. When we awoke we were buried in white covers, light as soft.

And the pale sun coming in through the window made squares of yellow on the bare floor.

I dreamt you were a lawyer and I was married to someone else.

I dreamt I shivered in a grey cold, all in white, as the barges moved out to lake. Industrial metal was bolted at forty-five degree angles always, rusting patternless. I made threats and promises. I shook and shook in a white dress, daring to scream at the sea.

"Do you feel better now?" I thought I heard someone say but I was shivering, dripping, covered in salt & couldn't hear anyone clearly at all. On the way home I got saltwater all over the seat mats of the car. Nobody said anything.

The next night I dreamt I was a creature of glamour and fashion, handling lines and blocks of color in a watercolor notebook. What name did I sign at the bottom? It was not my own. Perhaps at the time I did not recognize it.

My nightmares are ridiculous now. We sleep like stones, heavy until the moment we open our eyes. This comes with aging and I accept it. When I have insomnia I pretend I am drowning, but it doesn't have the effect it once did: I have forgotten what vast water is like.

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