tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5036794040682969601.post474319011890486265..comments2024-03-28T09:57:04.383-04:00Comments on "How to Discuss Paint Colors with your Wife" and Other Stories: The Flying Dreamdhstringer.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06158436684890797416noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5036794040682969601.post-40151957545257810062021-09-27T13:23:17.777-04:002021-09-27T13:23:17.777-04:00Yes, the dream of becoming an underwater being. I ...Yes, the dream of becoming an underwater being. I think it is likely a universal one. My telling of it is as follows:<br /><br />I let go and let the current usher me forward. No desire to breathe, nothing to worry about. I feel like I'm swimming without swimming, moving without moving. My arms rest easily at my sides. My fingers have found natural positions along my thighs, as if remembering some long-forgotten dance. Curved, relaxed, neither opening nor closing, they settle into themselves as a cellist's fingers on the fingerboard. There will be no shocks, no surprises, no sudden moves. There will be freedom with order, as Pablo Casals was known to say with a stirrup tightened firmly around the word "with." My hair swirls behind me like sleepy lagoon grass. A warm pulse of water opens behind me. I feel as if the pulse knows where I'm going, as if some long-pinched tendon running from the top of my head to my toes has finally relaxed. I watch the bottom appear as a dark gray shroud. I feel the pulse in my hair, as if my body were surrounded by warm and relaxing condensations of light. Old light, somehow whole light, pre-industrial light. Alive, the pulse races me forward. Brilliant gypsum-white sand meanders above me like a firmament of tuning forks. Those figures race and split and coalesce into new forks -- right side up, upside-down, Y's fusing together and fanning out. Miles or continents or centuries away, I sense that the whales know I'm here, as if I'm in the company of mothers singing to mothers, as if they are following me, my scent, my heat moving across the velvet currents of the sea. <br />Stephen Eric Berryhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11832366831805550395noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5036794040682969601.post-67300934720168869032021-09-27T13:19:30.352-04:002021-09-27T13:19:30.352-04:00This comment has been removed by the author.Stephen Eric Berryhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11832366831805550395noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5036794040682969601.post-70804212535894729942021-09-16T10:20:29.010-04:002021-09-16T10:20:29.010-04:00That's a really good poem.That's a really good poem.Rexhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16090641152684861375noreply@blogger.com