Thursday, March 15, 2012

five minutes, at dawn

In the midst of these ruminations, a mouse scattered across the floor, disturbed in its habits by my presence in the kitchen, and it seemed to be dropping things as it went. The contours and power of the dream began to fade as I considered the scene before me, a mouse, trying to frantically collect things which were obviously cumbersome and yet still not visible to my own eyes. I clambered onto the floor, as quietly as possible, and sought to see what ought to have been in a path straight in front of my feet. There was nothing there, but when I ran my hand across the floor, the air felt different; it was heavier, and warmer, like the first warm gust of wind on an early spring day. Even though I couldn't see anything, my hand, feeling in the current of space, could, in fact, feel the pieces that the mouse had dropped. At this point, all memories of the dream were fading completely, obscured by an even more confusing rift in my reality.

reading
The Wind in the Willows (which begins with spring cleaning, and quickly moves into truancy and river boats)

weather
spring cleaning, truancy, and river boats