'I remember...' is an extremely powerful phrase in my language. Uttered silently in my head or caught from the voice of another it transports me to places I want to linger, warm places amongst people I loved once, homes decorated where I languished in comfort; age four lying in a sun ray on my grandparents' coal dust saturated low pile rough on my cheek navy green carpet watching the dust motes dance and wondering if they were live creatures wiggling just for me;
racing through the wind on a equine muscles hot in the sun air roaring cold between every hair rushing fresh straight through my body muscles responding to keep my seat up a hill and back down rocking my pelvis to the rhythm suddenly a cowboy and a wild girl taking the plains free and fast holding the pace locking my legs part of the horse smelling of horse covered in horse dirt sticky and grey in a paste on my fingers and face nothing existing but us and the earth.
Some people dream they can fly and awake sad it is not true.
I dream of being pregnant, and of being given a child, and wake up ready to give birth or gather my infant from the crib.
I dream of running for miles legs scissoring smoothly feet digesting the ground in three foot bites and wake itching to let myself loose.
I want to be a giraffe or a leopard or a wild horse with four long muscled legs made for running and soar over the dirt and grass all muscles flexing in one giant scream of living power and joy.