Gone in a Waking Dream (page 2)

Dagney

I love the sea Coco, and am never seasick. A hurricane can rock me to sleep!

It's lovely.

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Dear Dagney,

s by the dozen at your doorstep!

CoCo

musky

I think you may have ventured unexpectedly into the Bermuda Triangle. Ohh it's real all right.

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Hey, Musky!

I do believe! I do believe!

Thanks for stopping by ...

CoCo

They were mere inadvertent strokes of the brush that came out as sails, hence the afterthought title Sailing. Do you see the lion face [actually, more the face of some celestial simian] and claw above and to the right of the main sail?

Subliminal, NOT!

CoCo

BabaYaga

Dearest CoCo... your painting is BEAUTIFUL.

I can smell the salt in the air, and feel the refreshing gentle sting of the tempestuous blowing mists...

(Baba pulls her jacket a little tighter...)

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Dear One, Baba:

As wind and wave wax in strength, so, too, does your own beautifully wrought poetic imagery ...

Many thanks to you and my other dear friends for your reassuring words.

Love and most tender regards,

CoCo de la Peinture

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The Sea is my mother, my father the Sky. Both are eternal and vast, each in their way. As I rise slowly yet inexorably from my mother's protective embrace, I reach toward Father, my life-giver, now become my mentor. He draws me up as spiraling vapor whose aspect is phantom-like yet, nevertheless, possessing true substance.

Under the aegis of Sky, I will harness my chariot to Sister Wind and travel Earth's four corners, showering my bounty upon her children. They will laud me; they will offer me prayerful thanks. However, I will look upward toward Father and downward toward Mother, seeking their approbation.

It is they who have given me life and continued existence ...

Praise must be directed accordingly....

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Water surrounds and encapsulates my molecule of a body, the vast containing the tiniest of a mere essence of humanity, come from the sea, returned to the sea. This was not a venture planned, much less dreamt about when feet were firmly established upon the soil of what I thought to be home. The sea has taken to me as I to her. What could be more natural, so timely as this flow of corporeal liquid into the larger whole, the sea, who beckons her offspring come return home. In utter and indefinable allargando, I blend smoothly with gentle, coaxing currents that invite all my moves be at one with their own. Warm fluidity spins me slowly round and round as wonders of the deep unfold before the incredulous eyes of an aqua man in descent.

Gone in a Waking Dream

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