One of the nifty side effects of my pregnancy has been the Technicolor
dreams. I have astonishingly vivid dreams, dreams set against Kubla Khan landscapes and described by fragmented echoes of Ginsbergian dialogue.
I have stood at the top of vast undulating prairie hills that stretch
away to a crystalline ocean below. Ice cold winds have blown against
my face. I have felt the thunder of a wild herd of Appaloosas
roar through me. I have swooped over silent forests and down into Alpine
valleys. Last night I dove, deep, deep, streaking down into cold blue
water, accompanied by bejeweled, unblinking fish.
LSD has nothing on my own hormones. I should bottle this stuff and sell it at Grateful Dead concerts.
2 comments:
Ah. Few things are quite like a Dead concert (we all *know* that I am that old!). :)
I'm not sure that your dreams are purely a function of your hormones (of course, I'm also not sure they're not!), but whatever their source, they sound totally awesome.
I love the feeling that comes through your entries; I sense such pure joy. It's so cool.
Thanks, Denise. I *am* pretty damn happy these days. :)
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