Into darkness

When I catch up with my dream, I am on a hillside – a familiar hillside with the ocean stretching to infinity far below. The sun shines golden on the countryside.

I’m in a car, facing down this hillside which is so steep I can feel the pavement slipping, slipping out from under me.

Before I reach the bottom, the scene slides away.

Next, I am on the top deck of a large boat, trying to get down, down into the darkness at the heart of the boat.

At first, I’m not sure why but then it comes to me: I’m trying to follow the poem I’ve lost. It was written on a slip of lined paper. I remember watching it fall, feather-soft, into the darkness below.

Someone whispers in my ear, What colour ink was it written in? (I have come to believe that someone is me, a voice from inside).

Gold. The ink was gold, I realize. I can see it in my mind’s eye, gold cursive writing on a ripped piece of lined paper, disappearing into the darkness below.

I have to slide down the side of the walls to get from one floor to the next. It’s so steep and the poem has vanished with its gold ink, vanished into the darkness below.

I think to myself, I am chasing my lost words.

But maybe I’m really chasing my mind, sliding deeper and deeper inside, into the darkness below.

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4 thoughts on “Into darkness

  1. I like the use of the narrative prosy lines to take us through the disjointed dream feelings. I can really see that gold ink floating in the darkness! And the last line, in its matter-of-factness, carries a chill–great ending. (My dreams of losing things, people, are in dark water. *shudder*)

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