Another imaginary journey I

Recommended soundtrack: I Crave You by Polarcode feat. Lauren Ruth Ward

Sliding hallways, moving doors, pieces of glass floating by my side. I feel lite. I feel light. I feel it around me just as it would feel inside of my body. I wish you could see this. Can you hear it? It is so loud and magically bright, the way a thousand porcelain bells would cry, in a long chant, when broken at once. Do you think I will awake? Or will I remain forever a part of this silk tapestry, forever golden, a warm pearl crushed on these transparent walls? My dear, where are we? Are you with me?

It is getting strangely velvety in here. We should all take our coats off. And our shoes. And our heads. And just let them float freely. I don’t need my eyes here. I can see everything with my lips. My finger tips are awake. They are aware. My bitten nails look like runes. The stories they are telling turn into shots of white smoke. Once my history is up to date, I was told I would smell lilac all over my skin.

Lovely girl, are you behind me? I can hear your breath, like a bird call. Has your hair turned light blue? It should. Your sign is mermaid. You should be proud. I think we are being called. Called closer. This golden hallway has an end, in a valley of charm, of noise, of tremor, of joy and fear. It is purple, but I only know that from its feel.

I think this is it. We can just bathe now. Or talk to the skies. I think we need to know… something. There is something to be known over here. There are shaped bodies walking around as if swimming in the air. Do we still need our lungs, pretty? My darling, it’s the first time I can turn to you, face to face. Happiness always makes you taller. Your dress touches the grass as we slowly dance… our every motion, slow and geometric, makes the pale green tresses of grass vibrate like chords. This dance makes its own music. And it’s your smile that changes the weather. There are two, three, and now a bunch of suns all around the celestial vault. Today I can read your mind. Because it talks through your pores. And I know you feel gritty. You are the child you used to be and you want to see how everything would look soaking wet. For the first time, I don’t mind that. Here is my smile, glowing from my shoulder. Happy?

Drums, a violin, somewhere… and a filtered light. Indigo. Everything slows down even more. And I feel a chill. It is like an unpredicted kiss, in the way it makes my eyes close and my head roll back. Drops of water appear on every surface, soaking everything bit by bit. I feel my hands, my whole body covered in crystal water. It is as if rain came from the inside of every object, of every body, like tears do when we call them. Everything is glassy. And cool. The sky has a lace of empty silvery branches covering it. Are these your clouds, my little painter? Could this be night? There is still some light, blue and grey. This is how night birds feel, isn’t it?

We walk. There is grace and strength hanging on every tree, like Christmas ornaments. I wish I could touch every surface, just for a moment, everything at once. I could better understand it. I would know where all of this is. All I can touch right now is your sleeve and it feels rough, immobile, like the tree bark, though it still looks like satin. That oak you embraced so strongly imparted its coat.

I run my fingers through the air, focusing on how it touches me back. My skin feels like it is rolling over small glass beads of different shapes. Are we just swimming in a large bowl of marbles? You overdid yourself. You look me in the eye and make me understand that it goes beyond yourself or us or anyone. I don’t know where we are living now, in who’s imagination. But I feel at home. I can’t remember how we got here.

My clothes have dried. This looks like morning, though nothing in the view has changed. But everything feels different, just as any room feels when we turn off the light. Did we turn the light on, by chance? Nothing looks changed. But I feel like my thirst has been quenched forever. Forever. It feels like our birth. It may be the cold, or the deep cut I feel inside my chest, like fear and love mixed together. You clasp my hand. And I can feel that exact pressure all over my body. In my knees, on the soles of my feet… Every touch is now the tightest embrace. I love how connected I feel to you this way. This might just be my doing. I have always wished for something as secure as this feeling. Thank you. To whomever. To you, my beautiful. I know why it feels like morning: it is the only time I feel your body so close to mine as if we were born together. Because I wake up next to you and your hands and feet and lips have left pressure marks on my skin. Your closeness has changed my own shape. That is how much I want you by my side — I am willing to change my whole body to match yours.

I think we are approaching mid noon. Or summer. Or love. Or lunch. Because I feel sparks in the air, little fireworks all around, invisible. Nonetheless present. Excitement. This is how day should always feel like. It is bright yellow. Because I know it, not because I see it. I turned my head to ask you how it looks like for you… but you are so lost in admiration. I think I hear you whisper… Your tongue rolls over your lips and your eyes are fixated somewhere in front. You look like a child standing by the ice-cream display. You noticed my gaze, turned your eyes to me and smiled guiltily. I will follow you there, don’t worry.

We got lost in the warmth of that swirl. It is infinitely pleasant. And relaxing. I need no end to anything like this. Desire has won.