I swim with the fish in my dreams. I play with the seaweed as it dances to the current music, as it hypnotizes the waves into gently lulling against the hull of my mind. I float upside down and almost inside out, trying to get my toes to the surface, but my head sinks to the bottom again, and I cannot see the stars from this deep.
There comes a moment when my head touches the surface, when I open my eyes again to see the night sky, see the moon race across the visions of lives, blazing a comet trail of stars as she bounces. The waves are shallow, the water warm as I swim to the shore, reaching out with strokes that have wings, that glide me in on the crests of the wave. The sand is powder under my feet. It is soft as it reaches between my toes to tickle the arches of my feet, trying to bury them into the earth. But I walk on; I stride harder, longer, reaching across the beach, trying to find the place where grass finally finds roots and grows. The beach is long and demanding. She shows no mercy as I walk, holding my legs, tearing at the muscles as I walk, folding my wings in behind me.
The water calls out to me. It calls crystal clear, echoing out from behind me, calling my name, reaching out with the lull, the ache of the waves. I look over my shoulder and the moon dances now, she dances on the waves with a gentle sway, a gentle swing that teases me, that touches my blood and makes me want her. So I turn around, I let the sand tickle my toes as I get back in, and swim out to where she touches the horizon. My wings enfold me, keeping me sheltered as I swim.