Swim with Dreams

The air becomes tactile right on the edge of a dream. Where reality hangs in suspense of the unknowing. It is that beautiful moment before waking. All this optimistic apprehension engulfs the air all around. The air breathed deep into your expanding lungs. Expanding like a new born. Expanding with the unknown direction you may choose to take next.
You know you are swimming in a dream. Next to the childhood tales of a mermaid, who dropped her purse on the shore. And mother would say; look now child, look now before it is gone, the mermaid has dropped her purse, why don’t you pick up that mermaids purse and return it to her, return it to her beneath the waves, quick before it is gone, run child, run to the shore. The sea-water mixing with the sand, glistening with the sunlight, makes your eyes like prisms. With all the light in the world refracting and colour bleeding, you run. Grabbing the seaweed in hand, you run. You run and dive into the depths. Into the depths of the painted memories on the shore. The air becomes tactile right on the edge of a dream. As you touch the lips of a future you have no idea who owns. You touch the hem of the beauty of a dream, stitched into this moment. This moment of optimistic apprehension. This new moment right on the edge of a dream. Right before waking, when your lungs are expanding. Expanding with the newness of knowing, you’ve just been swimming with dreams.