2.2.15 So Many Long Slender Boats

     In a waking dream, there are so many long slender boats, all following the quiet current of a stream so small that the canopy of trees leans across from either side, covering the waters with dappled shifting light. 
     And in the many hardly-larger-than-a-human boats, so streamlined, are different parts of me, sitting quietly, looking about, gazing at each other.
     I see all ages, from infancy to baby, toddler to child - preteen to a passel of teens, so many of so many ages. There are a number of young adults, mature adults, middle-aged adults, slightly older adults, and the sixty two year old adult.
     All the while, the waters move and swirl and sing as they follow an unerring direction.
     Almost imperceptibly, all these parts of me and the boats themselves are growing this intricate blue green lichen, that ever so gradually begins to cover people and boats, drawing them all close, as the fluttering plant weaves together all of me, like some bright array of strands.
     We begin to move with subtle grace; with the intelligence of a luminescent organism.
     I find myself interwoven from so many young and old beings, coming alive with a gradual awareness that transcends the limits of depth of stream , or memories, with a startling measure of prescience.
     In the dream, I watch myself woven into a wholeness of intricate inimitable experiences, with the deep amber water.
     I am stream and waters and trees: limbs, roots and iridescent wet rocks. I change into smallest waterfalls, spilling over small shining rocks, each nestled into so many swirling whirlpools.
     I am all of the others, within my skin, my breath, my sight, as I look about, seeing that no boats remain.
     Moving thoughtfully alongside the thick underbrush. Finding each foothold between the rocks. Pressed by the rustling waters and insistent current, I slowly lay myself down.