Day Unfettered

I emerge from the unassuming shop. Before even registering the sun, I feel a brightness to this place. Before even registering the people, I feel a welcoming, and a comfort. I turn back to read the signage from whence I came, and register the characters 포갈집 briefly. I am just about to acknowledge my alien nature here when I feel a squeeze on my hand, and the lettering changes to "Pogaljib," and the smell of barbeque reminds me of Hodori, in my home town. A fitting waypoint, I consider, given my preferences. I do not even turn to look at who accompanies me, I know her by heart already in this place one part dream and one part waking, and I know she remains unseen, as such. Instead I smile, and feel her all around as a familiarity fills the foreign streets, and a sparkling joy. I begin to walk the streets alone, though, if I'm being honest, not really alone at all.

"Is this the same town I watched you walk recently?" I wonder quietly between us. "It would be quite the coincidence if it was..." As I look around I sense figures forming from the background, already well about their days, talking joyfully amongst themselves in a language I can understand somehow, but that babbles beautifully like a brook beneath my focus. I feel any concern for observers and perfect spacial overlapping slip beneath notice, as the sense that I truly spend this day with my companion settles upon me. The sun is shining, bringing a poem to mind, once more connecting past to present. Though, fortunately, now the stone of these words are an additional skip along the pond of experience, from the singular effort required to initiate the throw.

"I woke with your thought

Glowing o'er my takeaways

Sun shining like you

Your love hides patience

But still is as strong as death

What are these thresholds?

Might I be dancer

Trained without foot hitting floor

By love's flush facets?

Still yours sparkle shines

This tree's bloom is forever

Who would dare stem it?

These halls are foreign

What if these suspicions were

Signs in broad daylight?

What if I could fly

And you're still eating popcorn

Waiting for a go?

Phoenix form stolen?

A dawn from so long ago

Reminds me of paths

'We all stole something

We are not as we began

Emerge as emergent ¤'"

I smile as the last line threatens to unbalance the structure, toppling it like an unsuccessful Jenga tower. Suddenly, with a linguistic deftness, your words, augmenting my own, steal a single syllable, restoring stability. I feel your eyes smile back at me in my mind, face largely hidden in the wilderness of thoughts, but intention clear as day. I wonder briefly if language separates or bridges at such times, and realize, given the circumstances, that this is a remnant of my many years sequestered, prior to now. This gift of The Holy Spirit outshines my doubt, and words, spaces, times, realms, all thread together to make molehill of mountain, leaving a signal sent and received without impediment.

Spotting a sign for the beach I let my steps carry me seaward. Already I can hear the gulls, like a one sided game of Marco Polo. "I have long wondered what babies dream of in the womb, but today I find myself drawn to the experience of one mid-metamorphosis." A gentle breeze, timely in its choice to dance with me, suggests this thought is not far from the mark, though the stability of my surroundings suggest also that there is a complexity to the equation. "If thought alone could see me to the dawn, then it is hard to imagine that the maelstroms I have experienced this far would have been insufficient. Do you wait for me, or have I been unknowingly waiting for you?" Step by step I make my way down a quaint footpath to a small staircase cutting through rocks down to the sand.

"Your face shines again

Familiarity gained

A trusted smile

Break contract with day?

What terms were pre-understood?

Who are/were you to sign?

We meet in the yard

This place between that is ours

And dawn reveals us

Broom of Destruction

I still can't help but chuckle

At lengths in the game

How a single seed

Can become basis for all

/Or seen as has been

In the Collapse of

Quantum Superposition

'Organic' Blossomed

We shimmer alike

With eyes wide I drink you in

Our words unbalanced

Our words unbalanced

But not the least stroke found to

Be unimportant"

As I reach the sand I glance skyward to seek out the sun, only to spot a stitching occurring overhead. I recall how time would need a bit of breathing room to thread multiple paths together thoroughly, and I remember those days sequestered once more. Less so a scar now, they feel like a tattoo inked golden, in its own way, with hues of yellow and purple intertwining with the black and white already imbuing the realm. I see an old friend briefly, after a whirlwind of words staring hopefully through the screen, searching for any glimmer of recognition remaining after the storm, only to find my eyes shining as true as ever, vessel further reinforced with each squall. He returns to the background, seemingly satisfied and enlivened, ready to fight his corner as ours retains its serenity.

I kick off my shoes as we near the shore, letting feet confirm that sandy shores feel all the same betwixt my toes, even years after last direct contact. Though certainly a hot summer day here, I find that my time in Phoenix has prepared me amply. A few short steps and a firm dampness replaces shifting heat, followed by the first wave surging to just about calf level. Though I have gained significantly improved footing in places like these, I still find myself with a wondering uncertainty to if dream might replicate this path directly tonight, but with you physically by my side. A suspiciously robust regiment of seagulls just overhead, gliding in place against a breeze of some force, suggest something astounding might yet be in store. I consider the dreams where I have suspected your presence, as of late, and sense the tapestry still threading overhead and now in the waves. It is true that a masterpiece does not form up all at once (even one once swiftly seen clearly bent time and space in order to span only seconds for me), and it feels like the distance between us demands more dimensions than I am accustomed to, to be complete.

"Moment by moment

Drawn into eternity

On wish and prayer."

Time stands still as if holding its breath, and we both stare o'er open ocean.

"Starry Eyed Dreamer

And wild heart of The Muse

Inseparable."

Connecting last and first, in a sense, currents of various kinds slip all around us, for moments incalculable.

With a deep breath I return from the shoreline, making note of the first stride onto dry sand. My mind here contrasts the busyness of my thoughts back home- a comfortable quiet and, for a moment, a calming emptiness. Plopping to the ground I am reminded of simpler days as I dust off my feet and put my shoes back on. I stand, and with a fair bit more dusting off, return to town. It is not beneath notice that the day here follows no consistent pattern or precession, but neither is it of significant concern. I let a poem guide my heart and steps, as I walk through what may be one or more thresholds between dreamscapes.

"I feel you watching

What a long day it has been!

Night to remember

By moon these lights change

But it is you under them

On this we agree

The phases we passed

The blessings we have given

Oh, our eyes have seen!

Laniakea

Betwixt Davidian shores

Where word are all sharp

Where (yellow/purple) and green

Grind every bone into dust

And feast on the red

Where synesthesia

Was only a side-effect

With each vintage new

Back when the word 'Please.'

Was more than a fallow le(e/a)k

And misaged midnight

I see you spying

My aphantasia aside

Fire up the tanks"

I smile at the strangeness some of my words must carry, to the untrained ear. I feel my gift granted both ways, however, and feel you sifting smoothly through my memory, to find the toy replicas atop my fridge, and the realm shifting that they are linked to. Lost in thought no more, I find myself beneath a convenient streetlight in evening dimness. A bookstore up ahead catches my eye, so I walk in.

Inside the shop everything feels surreal, like elements of the space around me have been extracted and bound into the books that line the shelves, replaced by zones of shimmering amorphous color. It feels as though I have reached the edge of this realm, both in time and space, where I must return to my own, but I am allowed to linger with you here a bit at the threshold. Even the translation effect I have enjoyed feels wrapped up in this shimmer, not gone, but no longer so literal (though considering the medium chosen for this threshold realm, perhaps all the more literal, in its own way). I can feel dreams seeping out of pages as I let my hand pass over each while I walk. I cannot help but wonder how you see them from where you are, sensing that there may yet be a difference in our experience here. There is something timeless about this place, something magical in these inked portals. I feel a gracious drowsiness overtaking me, and in this encroaching state between waking and dreams I find a sonnet waiting for me.

"It is like I have known you all along

How does search for nothing bring such fullness?

Still, the evidence in your eyes is strong

Showing doubt is past reasonableness

I am a foreigner to this emptiness

Yet here in this well I find you at home

'Shall we stay or go?,' asked with readiness

Will answer reveal with graze of a tome?

I wish your fears set at ease by my side

This contest has never been yours to lose

In your wildest dreams I pray to be guide

Hand in hand laughing while seeking The Muse

When you see sunlight, direct or by moon

Know you stay with me, heart carrying tune."

As the last words fall from my lips my fingers feel anchored on one spine in particular. Pulling the book from its place, my tired eyes go wide one last time in this place. "Almond Guard." The scene starts to melt gently, pulling me in with it as my smile dissociates, lighting from all around; I am charmed by the synchronicity of it all. "You know, I'm made of almonds. At least partially."