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8:49 p.m. - 2001-05-17 ----- I dreamt I was levitating rain. I stood in a field wearing a light lavender film, and as the rain fell I held it a few meters above the ground, like an expanding puddle hovering in the air. It began to pool and become deep; this rainbow tinged water, and as it did, I had a stranger under the growing rippling ceiling that I should have known from somewhere. He tasted like tears, he smelt of burning mandarin, he felt like new blood. This ceiling of rain causing us to move on our hands and knees still fell, my mind still keeping it a few meters over, the pool beginning to grow deep and swirling, my hand keeping this stranger's hand so he wouldn't, somehow, swirl himself; starting with his heart and whirlpooling in until there was nothing left, nothing but his raw essence. Or nothing there at all even now, as I found his face by drawing closer under the ever-darkening tunnel we found ourselves lying in, and swathed in a wreath of wispy clouds. I couldn't see anything but his first impression, and it was dark blue and pulsing, somehow desperately, under the rippling water-sky, superimposed over, under, through the vague shape of his head. It pained me to see so much that I threw open my own body, my own stories, my own self, wide, wide open, a soul without an encasing body throbbing in the dark for anyone to touch, for anyone to find, for anyone to steal. As the rain closed in I had a terrible premonition that this stranger, this sad desperate stranger, would grab mine and run away through the wall of water. He didn't. I knelt there, empty, watching my own soul throb there, without its protective casing, waiting for him to take it, almost welcoming it. The rain closing in. He unraveled his face from the clouds and he blew on my soul; it wafted back through my dress and my skin, back into myself. And I looked at him, quickly, just as my levitation of the rain wavered and it all hit the ground, rushing east, rushing strong, pulling me under. He had flown away.
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