The Sutra’s of my heart are joined in the middle by a writhing dragon, too stubborn to let go, too toothy to gently nibble at the chain.
I stood in cue before a counter jeweled with pastry and incensed with coffee. I was followed by a family of three, and to my own perception, the infant and toddler seemed quiet and without misbehavior. But suddenly they departed, before even my own turn. The child cried, denied a selection of sweetness. The hurt she experience somehow reached me as if the sadness was personal to me. Not just about being denied a pleasure but an anguish of seeing a joy and not understanding why the chance to taste was taken. Maybe a repressed memory, but also there was a feel, that in this simple act, something hurt us all.
I found welcome to a dream that I had this fish; it was beautiful in the way that I knew I loved and cherished it. Its blue iridescence was my pride and joy that I kept it close to me, protection of utmost. Waves thundered against rocks and I promised, “I will not let anything hurt you.” I road the current to carry us thorough but on the shore soul-less flesh eaters surrounded us. My promise, I could only keep it, if I ended this precious life myself and to make it quick, for they are upon us. I woke unable to honor such a promise in my dream, returning with the memory of an excruciating choice, as if it is a memory and not a dream. The trouble real, the promise unfulfilled and the welcome to a dream hunting for a source.