Last night I dreamed of the perfect house, set cozy under palms stretching out to the sea from the land, surrounded by by the big, big blue but the ocean, the ocean kept eating the house
each devouring spray washing over its being. And I could not settle. I wanted to live there, in the house, by the ocean, in the sun. I wanted to live there, without drowning. But I felt the sliding
screaming slipping gasping despair,
the deep, deep wanting
and the knowing of not having.
I stayed in this washing despair,
letting the ocean eat the house while I screamed.
And when I awoke
I did not know if
I was myself
or the house
or the ocean.