(Image via kozyndan)
She dreamed of the sea often. From the time she was a child, never yet having seen it, she yearned for the sea. It thrummed through her veins, pushing blood aside, her tears saltier than most, leaving white trails down her cheeks. She devoured photographs of far-away beaches with her eyes, wishing herself there. When she woke from her dreams of the sea, the taste of salt was there in the corners of her mouth. It was home to her.
Her first introduction to it stopped her breath and made her heart beat faster than should have been possible. The scope and power of it widened her eyes and made her knees weak. The brine in the air attached itself to her skin like iron particles to a magnet. The taste of the air on her tongue was other-wordly. From that day, the sea ruled her dreams.
She was always a voyeur in those dreams, watching herself discovering the sea over and over again. Standing on a high cliff over a rock-strewn beach, the moon low in the sky, a strong wind bending the scrub pine, Newfoundland in the distance. Another sea, another beach. This one balmy, the sun warm and the breeze sweetened. This sea was blue-green and shallow for miles. She watched herself walk out into it and continue until she was a speck on the horizon, about to fall off the edge. So many sea-dreams that she took to writing them in a journal so as not to lose touch with the feel of them.
One in particular stayed with her always. An azure sea and a hot sun. Rock formations embedded deep in white sand and towering above to dizzying heights. Waves crashing in and the reluctant sound of those same waves being pulled back to the depths. The air was heavier and more intoxicating here. This sea had more power, more purpose than the others. This sea wanted her to stay. Her voyeur-self felt it as strongly as her dream-self. This sea offered something else, a desire, a pull. Something hidden on the edges of the dream, a gift not ready to be revealed. Tantalizingly close, but moving from her reach each time she thought she could see a glimpse of what might come to her.
She then began to will herself to go back to this dream, each time moving closer to the unknown gift that would connect her to that sea forever. The sea she had been searching for, the one that was home. And each time she woke, the taste of salt. No longer just in the corners of her mouth but riming her lips and tongue. She was getting closer....she was almost home.
[Another story built around a single word - sea. Provided with a smile by my wonderful friend and revered poet Lerrnst .]