The Last Dream

The last dream I had left my mouth dry but my eyes moist. The wetness flowed like a river down my face, like an ocean, like a flood streaming.

A small gathering of palm-frond huts across my chin were in danger of being swept away by the flood. The tribal elders were in a panic. Fragrant offerings were being thrown into the holy sacrificial pit, my mouth, and the congregation of mothers and grandmothers and daughters wept and wailed in the gale of each breath I took, gusts coming in and out punctuating their keening like taunting spirits.

One naked figure sat with his legs crossed silent and unmoving, his gaze turned deeply within, the smile on his face like the radiant bliss of the summer’s sun reflected in mine eyes.

His spine drew no parallel to anything I knew, and his thoughts were so open as to echo across the stars beyond the sky. Worries were not possible in him, since all his errors instantly evaporated. No passage of time applied, for eternity beguiled him no more.

“Oh, great God of the dream!” implored the elders, the sons, the granddaughters of the tribe. “Help us! Save us! *Defend* us!”

The seated one’s smile grew broader with every boon requested, as if he were a child delighted by the make-believe play of his brothers and sisters.

A rumble began spreading from his belly up his front through his heart and then his throat, and I could not help myself as laughter burst forth from both of us when the vibration trembled through his closed eyes and forehead.

The point at the top of my head was alight. I didn’t know what it was at first. I could feel myself slipping. When it reached his forehead, a wild light erupted into the world.

That was when I awoke, and the last wisps of the dream dissolved like a fading blotch on the rainbow of remembrance. I could almost recall something. But the light of the dawning day and the bleeping of the alarm wiped out everything but a vague sense of something that needed doing.

And so my day began.