The seas are calm today. I’m sitting from a white bench at the park up the hill from my apartment. Dusk is approaching and my feet have padded over spongy grass to get here. It rained this afternoon, but I sat inside and regarded it as rumor.

There’s something about the passage into spring that awakens my mind to wild & wending dreams. I seem to be diving through alternate lives and far flung worlds as my nights resemble an odyssey rather than rest.

My ears have been stuffed this past week— lending a dazed feeling to my days as I struggle to hear the world around me. Distorted reality. Coupled with the dreams it leads to a pervasive sense of being untethered. I’m at the mercy of passing winds.

Story ideas have pulled back as my creative instincts are dulled under the heavy hand of prescriptive medicine. I’m keen to return to a non-snuffly existence. One that isn’t accompanied by hacking coughs or a lingering wheeze.

But as the incandescent lights pop up on the horizon from the fishing boats— I’m reminded that it’s all in due time. We don’t know the bounty we’ll catch if we leave our nets in the water.

I wonder upon return to full health and a clear mind what I’ll make of the collected dream accounts of lives I’ve never lived. Of worlds I’ll never see— and the faces that reside within them. Those that pull phantom threads from both mind & heart as memory dulls the edges between strong imagination and weak recollection.