cat hair asphyxiating my lungs wheezing, my eyes shutter dreams physical forecasting—permanent air breath words across the mirror in that very room, i screech to. it was one of those dreams where the sleeping and waking worlds lost track of who they are. numb to my own fingers and toes, i attempt to wiggle. “did i move or did i imagine moving”?
i wake up to myself gasping for air, shocked by the viscerality as if not my mind, but my bloodstream and veins dreamed—wicked. i close my eyes to pursue rest once more. this time, a whale turned boat appears in dark blue rippling waters. thrashing my body a vessel, i wake again? “oh my—the gods are talking chatter” i mutter to Charlie twinkle gazing at me with puppy patrol eyes.
it’s 180 minutes till dawn, i snap open my cellular device and turn the brightness to nonexistent. I click on Youtube University and watch several videos of far off distant livers building structures from scratch bare handed, minimal tools and all. i stop myself from tapping on Instagram in this very moment—discipline my cousin. my imagination is as vibrant as a July garden—remembering each saga and its colors. iridescent bees buzzing pollinating ecologies, spreading love—that sorta thing.
i’m building a cabin in the woods at the top of Cancer season, so very freaking appropriate, because the truth is—no one else’s home can serve me the way my own can. leaving dreamer’s city, retiring Vogue desire for a place to live, i humbly accept this challenge. pulling funds from places not yet material, i make noise for my yearning, resource myself through a silver magic veil, and wipe clean any hesitation or doubt my needs can be met.