I wake up screaming from a nightmare I haven’t had.
The tactless sun shines and paints the world relentlessly happy. But, it isn’t. So, I force myself to sleep some more, retreating back to the haunted world of my mind. I wake to find my pillow drenched with the sweat and the tears of more and more terror. I just want to hide forever. Yet time is callous and tells me I must engage with the day.
I have lived a lifetime through the night. I want no more of it, yet I cannot be without it. My skin becomes clean, and my belly is filled, yet I do not remember making that happen. My own voice sends words out to the world, yet they do not mean anything to me. Maybe others will find my meaning for me.
Later.
Alone.
The sun has conceded the skies to morose clouds. I hurry on, avoiding the sullen grimace of the mud on the marshes. Somewhere, a curlew takes flight, its call a shrill rebuke. I have intruded; I am now a person without place.
A woman walking the other way looks at me, concern written over her face.
“Did you fall?”
She gestures at my muddied trousers. I tell her that I didn’t.
I don’t tell her there was nowhere for me to fall to.
Estuary Tales 