I remember the waves as they broke along the rocky shore. The sting of the spray and the taste of salt on the cool breeze. The sun just a muted orb nearing the horizon against a sky of grey slate. It was like watching a muted television, but at the same time being inside the picture.
I stood as naked as the day I was born, keeping my delicate bits covered with my hands. Apparently, I’m self-conscious, even in dreams. My toes dug in the sand and the grit worked itself deep in between.
A weight occupied the back of my mind. Like something needed to be said, but I wasn’t the one with the idea. It fought to break through as the waves in front of me slowed until they froze. Fine mist hung in the air, and sea foam strung the length of the shore like dreary cotton candy.
Movement above me caught my attention. A raven circled in a tight, lumbering arc. At what altitude it was impossible to say. It almost seemed I could reach out and hold it in my hand, but at the same time it grazed the stratosphere and would eclipse a jumbo jet.
The sensation in my skull became urgent, frantic even. I caught a glint in the raven’s eye. It focused on me as it made one final lap, then set a course toward the open sea. The pressure in my head eased, and then along with the raven, it disappeared.
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Photo by sajjad aslani on Unsplash
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