Where were we?
We were sitting in the middle of a discussion about music. It was hot, and I thought the bar itself began to sweat. That’s when I realized that there were misters, not Misters, gently spritzing microscopic water droplets down.
These are the days of miracle and wonder.
I didn’t get lost on the way home. I woke up the next morning, and I went for a run. It seemed like summer but it was supposed to be fall. I thought of the gentle mists and the rhythm of conversation. I listened to music, and I remembered how comfortably numb I had become.
You were only coming through in waves.
I locked myself out of my apartment, almost missed a meeting. That didn’t mean anything other than that I’d forgotten to live alone.
Where were we again?
There were boats in the nearby park and we went out on the tiny pond in one of them. The sun felt relentless, the water looked invitingly cool, except where the pond scum collected and you couldn’t see the bottom. I imagined a breeze, and the winds delivered. The presence and the glints of golden sunlight were more than enough to bring magic.
Where were we, again?
Another day, another task of my own making. Now, I’ve forgotten what it means to fly, even though I dreamed about it last night. Except this time, this time, I flew myself. I leaped from a wooden platform and into the air across the expanse of deep blue water. Was it Iceland? Was is the lake? Was it Shetland? Was it Norway? It didn’t really matter; the sensation of being airborne was enough for me, and I circled until I gently landed. My second time curving up and into the air, it was too windy, and I had become overconfident. I few in circles, going lower and lower. I knew that I was coming in to land in the water. I only feared that someone would be upset with me, not that I would drown; I know how to swim.
I splashed into the water. The temperature was warmer than I had expected, and I swam towards an overturned rowboat sitting on the sand, the foreground to soft sand dunes. Long grasses blew lazily about. I came out of the water and walked across the sand to a small pool, to a warm shower, warm towels, a warm embrace.
I found it neither funny nor strange.
Everything is shimmering again, this time in oranges and golds, and the strangely misplaced humidity. I look up at the trees, and they don’t look real. I hear an echo, or an owl in the glow.
Where were we?