In a long-ago dream I was weightless above a sheet resembling the sea— There was no obvious sound and yet I swear I felt a rippling vibrate through me. Suspended and breathless, and yet the expanse went on and on. I couldn’t tell the time; or if faraway beeps came from the microwave or coffeemaker, or the laundry machine that sings a tune when it is done tumbling the clothes to a nice warm dry. It’s hard to recover that weightless dream anymore though I dearly want to slip it into every lamp in the house. The closest I’ve come was watching the cotton candy man on the street corner throw handfuls of sugar into a heated drum as it spun. How lovely to gather filaments and build a cloud, just with the motion of one’s hands.
In response to Via Negativa: Disproportionate.