Dream again


I wish I could bring a notebook with me into my dreams,so that I can remember in vivid clarity what it felt like to have the moon so close that I could leap into our sky and land onto its waning surface with perfect grace and ease.I want to remember running around the damp rings of Saturn with his hand tangled with mine,or how it felt to build a garden out of stars on velvety clouds.I want details on how his lips felt brushing against mine,and how many heartbeats fluttered through my body as I found a lock behind his rises and made home in the left ventricle of his heart.I want to have evidence of being able to fly,ripping the seams of the atmosphere and feeling my fingertips glide apart the ocean as I looked down and saw sea turtles with redwoods growing out of its shell.No one will ever believe that i've swam in emerald rivers of forgotten books,or that i've gone unnoticed in shark-infested water while I was trembling so hard that my palms sweated out lakes.I want everybody to be able to know that picnics on the surface of the sun are quite lovely,and if you dig a hole deep enough,you can have tea parties with silky copper foxes in top hats.These worlds that I visit are so beautiful,so mystical,so dangerous,and I just wish that someone would believe that this couldn't be my imagination.I can't create worlds so three dimensional.

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