Last night my mind was brimming with an emerald so wild it dripped down over my ears like the yoke of a cosmic green egg, pouring itself out across two verdant dreams.
The first dream began in a pure and quiet bathtub full of crystalline water. I was warm and soft, clean like dinner napkins and the whole room around me glowed with a halo of milk-white tile. My closest friends sit around me forming a clock, the silvery new faces begin at one and make their way around the circle until returning to noon, golden, old friends from my childhood.
The girls are wearing white, their hair is plaited simply and they each have a disarming smile weaving bliss onto their faces. My impatient ears fill the absolute quiet of the room with white noise, crackling in the air, harmonizing with the room itself. Something awakens in me, a desire for something more than this perfect space. Tranquility and bliss abide, but I wonder if there is anything more, should I see the world?
I slip noiselessly from the bath, not spilling a single drop, and my skin is warmed immediately as I stand, water wicks away from my body and I move towards a door. Simple, made of cherry wood but heavily hewn, I push the door out towards fate.
I breathe in deeply to my knees, and I gasp, the air is nearly frozen solid and far too cold to breathe. With charred lungs I feel the grass beneath my feet jutting up at me in ragged spears, tough and wet with too much dew. My soaked feet are raw with misery and the wind roars past me in deafening, harsh gusts that cut and twist my body. The world is an elbow to my ribs; to stand against the wind itself is pain. I turn away from this world, and enclose myself once more in my haven.
It is dimmer somehow; the whiteness has faded to a green aura that seems to pulsate in time with my own chest. There is no one. I begin to make out the shapes, small bundles like cloth sacks huddling along the edges, sticking fast near the molding. I see everyone; all of my friends have passed on to a different realm, their bodies fused to the floor with the mold and rot of decay.
Glistening, slimy backs of obsidian and jade they hold different poses. Some are seated, propped against the walls as if they could break free from the delicate cobwebs that bind them. I kneel near the dearest one to me, and touch her cold face. Her eyes blink eternally, outpacing death, and they cry tears of acid that flow down to create caustic little puddles where mosquitoes lay their eggs.
Now I saw only loneliness and suffering in my haven, and I could not bear to remain. Returning to the bitterness of the world beyond my door, I found myself numbed to the harsh world that had seemed so unbearable before. I made it to a small copse of trees before I awoke.
Slipping back into sleep after a quick glass of water from our Brita, shades of green again saturated my dream-scape.
I am on a beach on the Puget Sound, covered in beautiful pebbles of gray-scale reflecting little moons on their wet hides. Where a coastal beach would have seashells, here instead one found little sparks of beach glass green and brown among the rocky tidal lines. I inhaled the deep green smells of the Olympic Rainforest after a heavy downpour and inspected the kelp fronds that made salty ribbons across the deep gray of the coastline. I sat finally, the location was not particular, I had simply tired of walking, and looked out at the mouth of the sound.
The water was a bottle green window to the activity beneath the surface, sinister creatures I wish I could un-see. Lithe sharks of all shapes, sizes and creeds lay waiting, motionless, with sleek heads pointed directly at the shore, at me, and they were smiling.
The terror lie ultimately in the realization that for my entire life I had known this beach, played here and adventured among its tides, yet never had I seen anything like this. Instinct told me that they had always been there, and I pondered how I had slipped past them as a child. Now that I could see them, I wondered if anything would change; now that I could comprehend them, could I still indulge in the occasional swim. Or had my ability to avoid their razor grins laid solely in my ignorance? I sat on the beach, under the moon and contemplated if I should swim or stay.