many waters
the dreams keep coming. though each has its unique details, a common
thread runs through them. in them i am drowning, desperately wanting to
get my head above the surface of the water, knowing i can, yet somehow
not seeming to be able to. i am deeply disturbed by my situation,
wanting to get out of it, struggling against it, and yet some part of
me is enjoying it; it has a strange familiarity that is comforting, and
i wonder if i am indeed here by choice, not quite the victim i assumed
myself to be.
i never quite remember how they end. things either go
back to normal suddenly or i wake up and the watery world disappears,
but always i survive. i am never the victor though; there is never a
sense of triumph, never a successful reemerging from the waters closed
in on me. is it because i struggled only half-heartedly that i miss
savoring the moment when i start breathing again? or is because i
secretly enjoyed being underwater, enjoyed being held down, enjoyed
being made helpless?
even in my dreams, underwater, i question. and
when i wake i am no wiser, only once more newly convinced that i have
finally left the waters behind.
