on sand

February 14, 2013 § Leave a comment

sandlegs
I was on a plane recently. I sat at the window which is unusual as I usually choose the aisle. It was the afternoon and the light was blinding me. There were no clouds and it was warm and beautiful. I thought myself happy then.

I saw a house, filled with sand. Everything upside down, pushed hard against the sand, being consumed. The doors were stuck to, open just enough to see the piles drift towards the back wall. There must have been buried things. The dry dust. The crystals.

In my dream I made a snowball bigger and bigger, compressing the snow between my open hands, contracting it to a hard knot of ice. I pushed so hard the ice became styrofoam and then it crumbled in my hands.

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