My Dream of the Sun

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In my dream this morning,
I was in the ocean, maybe waist-deep,
with another woman, and there were
children all around.
Without warning, it seemed,
the sun was before us,
not looming or hovering, exactly,
but larger than life, or rather,
filling the very edges of our existence,
magnificent but not blinding
in its fierce yellows and oranges.
I’m not sure if we were supposed
to be there, so close to the sun;
I didn’t feel I was always meant to be there,
but I didn’t feel like an intrusion, either.
Maybe it’s just how it was, in that moment.
The sun sliced through the water,
where I imagined it submerged,
arriving from the other side of the world,
gaining strength and momentum
from the seahorses and mermaids
and all the other creatures we’ve
seen and imagines and hoped for.
No sooner was it hovering, briefly,
right in front of us, never burning
us with the heat that fuels the world,
than it rose, quickly but not rashly,
like an eagle soaring in the sky,
like a butterfly zipping between
the flowers of her sustenance,
upward, so high, it knew where to go.
I looked up, astonished, and exclaimed:
Wow! Is this how it happens everyday,
if you are close enough for it?
 
– TT
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Legend

june 20

 

Legend

(Laos)

Imagine the life you’re living now and simultaneously, the legend it has somehow already become. You know this because you can feel it as you are, where you are. You can see the future as real as a painting changed because of your life and its story. Do you know this state of things? For me, it’s being curled up in a rocking chair, or maybe a leather armchair, with a crocheted blanket hugging my legs. I’m drinking some kind of detox herbal tea which I finally enjoy more than coffee, maybe with clove in it, and I’ve added lime to it because I learned in Southeast Asia that lime makes many things taste better. I might be old, with most of my life behind me, but I get the feeling that this is me, now, that I’m waiting for the phone call that will change my life, ignite the legend that everyone already knows about because the world feeds on folklore now as it always has. But what is it? What is this legend that has already been written? The phone rings but I’m caught up with a cloud outside my window and I don’t answer it. I can see it through the window. In it there is a field, and the burnt yellow of its ground tells me it’s autumn. I turn around and see a vintage poster of The Wizard of Oz hanging behind me. Its predominant colour matches that of the field in the cloud outside my window. And then I appear. I run through the field, my long curly hair flying behind me. Soon after two other women come into view. We’re all laughing, like we know we’re in a cloud. We stop under an enormous Banyan tree and catch our breath for a moment. Then the second woman, a dear friend from the looks of it, starts to sing in a certain beautiful, unique way until a large branch begins to descend to the ground. It’s an invitation. Bemused but enthralled, I climb the branch and it’s a lot longer than I would have thought. It’s certainly not going into the centre of the tree, where other branches would grow out from the trunk. I walk and I walk; it feels like I’m in a forest. But the sky is red and the animals don’t look like any I’ve ever seen. “It’s okay, look up,” the third woman says. We’re all walking together now. I look up and as I do, the sky begins to break up. The red scatters and falls away to the sides like curtains at the theatre. What I can see now is an endless row of rope ladders, and three of them come down. “Ah,” I say. We climb the ladders, roll up our sleeves, and prepare to drop all the others down for the rest of the world.