a story, of sorts
May. 20th, 2005 11:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonny_kate(Note: this is all backstory. To skip directly to the sort of story, please click on the lj cut) I was going to take a nap this afternoon. I laid down with every intention of taking a nap. But then the phone rang. I got up to answer it, and found that it was an hour later. I had the unsettling feeling that I really had been asleep, because I had wisps of dreams that faded away even as I tried to grasp them. I had been skimming the surface of sleep without realizing it. Being the sort of person I am, I sketched the idea with words.
The night sky is deep, dark and clear, with a thousand points of flickering stars. You are flying, gliding, your wings outstretched. Perhaps you are a white sea bird, perhaps you only remind me of one. You fly over the dark water, the wind ruffling its surface. You skim above the surface, thinking of everything, or nothing. You hear something, or simply tire. You soar back to the soft, pale sands of the shore. As you stand upon the shore, you realize that you are wet with the mists of the salt spray. You have a faint memory of the sea, but do not remember coming close to the waves. But there is an idea, or a memory, or only a realization, of skimming the surface of the water. You remember phosphorescence upon the ridges of the waves, of deep, beautiful colors dancing deep underwater. The rest slips from your mind like fine, pale sand.
The night sky is deep, dark and clear, with a thousand points of flickering stars. You are flying, gliding, your wings outstretched. Perhaps you are a white sea bird, perhaps you only remind me of one. You fly over the dark water, the wind ruffling its surface. You skim above the surface, thinking of everything, or nothing. You hear something, or simply tire. You soar back to the soft, pale sands of the shore. As you stand upon the shore, you realize that you are wet with the mists of the salt spray. You have a faint memory of the sea, but do not remember coming close to the waves. But there is an idea, or a memory, or only a realization, of skimming the surface of the water. You remember phosphorescence upon the ridges of the waves, of deep, beautiful colors dancing deep underwater. The rest slips from your mind like fine, pale sand.
