Wind Dream

01/28/12

In my dream I was the wind. I started out the last breath of a dying man. I combined with the summer breeze that ruffled the curtains and made the tree branches dance. I blew through the tall city buildings and then over and through the pine trees. I gained momentum from the heat of the earth and blew up into the cold mountains. I screamed down the slopes as I cooled, melding with a warm humid wind. I became angry and powerful and funneled myself into a tube. I tipped over trees and picked up trucks and let them drop. I blew over a vast grassy plain, then down through the canyon, so narrow that I whistled as I contoured the sandy tall narrows. I followed a mighty river to the sea. I blew the water into waves, tall and taller. I spent a long time blowing over the salty ocean. I was sucked into a whale’s blowhole, and jetted back out. I got caught in the crisp canvas of a sail, and then held a sea bird aloft as it drifted on my warm thermals. I blew back into land and I slowed and became calm and quiet. I blew through a geranium and became infused with its scent. I blew through an open door and tousled papers on a kitchen table. I drifted up some stairs and into a room. I was the very first breath of new born, bellowed out in the insult of life.