In my dream, I am swimming with my husband and other friends. Everyone else swims at a brisk pace– several strokes ahead of me. I flutter about, getting caught up in the lilies. I am too slow. Tangled. Looking up at the sky.
How to progress?
I stop and adjust my bathing cap at a local eatery, situated in the middle of the water. The local eatery is a boardwalk sort of island, like a tiki bar with snacks. My husband joins me.
How could this be? He was ahead of me?
He has already completed the swimming task and is now retiring for a snack. He is accompanied by our friends. Everyone is waiting for me.
They are so fast. Why am I so slow?
It’s because I am dreaming in the dream. The lilies. The joy of just swimming.
I have lost my bathing cap, so the bartender offers me a shower cap instead.
Oh, yes, thank-you. I refuse a drink, but accept the cap, before waving goodbye to my friends and husband and reentering into the water.
Alone this time. The water feels colder, knowing there is no one else ahead for me to catch up to. For certain now, I am still slow. My head full of clouds. This is how I feel about everything, but mostly this is how I feel about art-making.
I have accepted that I may die this way.
My job. My empty pockets.
At a dinner party people want to know.
What do you do?
I want to throw the question out the window and I want it to be dramatic and snowy. Just dumb. Super dumb. I want to shatter glass.