Happy Ghosts

a dreamscape at peace

You lie on sand, each limb cradled and supported by innumerable grains of glass, radiating heat where the sun sees them, but cool and soothing beneath the shade of your body. The sun warms you, too, while thick white clouds glide across a sky the color of forget-me-nots. They move without effort, carried by a breeze that washes over you and whispers: this desert was once an ocean.

While you bask in the sun, you almost feel as though you’re disappearing into the sand - not sinking - but slowing the speed of your breathing, your gaze, your heart, to the pace of life that a desert lives. This land holds a history that you sense in your bones. There are stories here - unreadable, but which can be absorbed by the soul.

As cloud-shade and breeze pull the heat of the sun from your brow, the warmth of the desert sands rises and envelopes you so that you are always comfortable. Always at home.

The echoes of the ocean are here, beneath you. The desert remembers the salty rock cliffs that once sheltered bone-like coral, starfish the colors of the sunset, and blue-clawed crabs. It remembers the porcelain shells that clattered at its shores with each tug of the tide. You sense the happy ghosts of millions of fish, swimming above you, suspended in the dream of an ocean and glittering in the sun like silver coins. There is a peace that suffuses you as you remember, like the desert, the happy ghosts that still haunt your shores.