Monday, July 25, 2011

I Forgot to Take my Camera to This Dream

     My family were sitting on our old green couch, which was somewhat revived, we were all going to sleep. I left to sit with Kristen (my BFF), watching the sunset reflect off the lake that the living room melted into. The pink was almost violent in its saturation, demanding that we stare in awe. Kristen pointed out that the way the lake looked like melted chocolate under the energetic sunset was just one angle, and wondered what it looked like from above the clouds or outer space. With a paradoxical mind, as open as space, I wanted to imagine what it would be like with a different type of perception completely unknown to me, or as nothing.

    We began flying in a helicopter, during an earthquake. It seemed the shaking worked its way up through the atmosphere and created and odd sensation of gravity. As it turned out, an older man was telling us his story of flight through peril, and that's how we were transported to his memory.

    Driving through San Francisco, the city streets became winding highways  edged by tall rock walls. Apartment complexes replaced the rocks and mirrored them in structure - tall buildings on either side, where each door was nearly square and could fit a small car. The doors were stacked in varying placement, and each was a different bright color. Looking into a few of the open doors I saw modern design like one sees in the most innovative magazines, I was taken by a stainless steel bunk bed and thought that this is how college dorms should be.

    Kristen, Leah and I walked into a green door and were greeted with a party of people that would be my family if we were Swedish. I walked into one the of least crowded areas and  met a very pregnant woman with sandy blond hair in a pony tail, a green shirt, and an open face. We shook hands and then she pulled me into one of the biggest hugs I've ever had, picking me up and carrying me around as I thought: "Wow, its nice to be loved by a mom."

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