My mother told me to sit on this couch
And wait for the party to begin.
Waiting?
Now, where’s the fun in that?

I strum my fingers in an impatient dance
Upon the armrest,
And when that doesn’t entertain,
I shift my tired body to the side
And rest my cheek upon the rough leather.

Slowly, the edges of reality begin to melt,
And the folds of the world softly peel away,
Until I reach the tender core of the subconscious.

Suddenly I am reborn.
A dark, jagged cliff stretches out before me,
But I feel no fear.
I run,
Slicing through the cool air,
And fling myself off the edge.

Now I soar over rolling hills of soil;
Rich dirt bearing miles of sprawling foliage;
As a field of tender grassroots
Ripples softly in the breeze.

Spiraling downward, I skim the sea,
Dancing with the tides;
White-caps of waves
Reaching up to lick my face.

As I follow the shoreline,
I watch the waves break in cool frothy fingers
Softly stroking the sand.

I feel the pulse of the sky,
Closing my eyes as soft currents of wind
Caress my outstretched arms,
Tickling my soul until I feel more alive than ever.

I plunge down in a steep dive,
Rejoining the sea,
Tilting my head to the sky
As the salt bites my skin.
A wave reaches out, shaking me
Awake…
And I find myself upon a patent leather couch.

My mother tells me it’s time for the party;
That I’m going to be late if I wait any longer.
Go to a party?
Now, where’s the fun in that?