Soon To Dream

Her mind wanders through the ebb and flow; soon to sleep, soon to dream, yet only catching a taste of this now and again. First it comes in darkness... A blink prolonged just so far as to trick the senses. Then, a color, a scent, a picture. Brief snapshots of the subconscious, flitting about furiously as migratory butterflies arriving home from a long journey, their wings flapping gracefully in a symphony of whispers. It is this soft swish, so similar to fresh snow descending onto the browner leaves on the forest floor in those first days of winter, which captivated her and pulls her in. It is a familiar tune, whimsical yet serene. Unaware of her drooped eyelids, of her slowed pulse, of her deep breathing, she glides into one of the picture books before her. They vary in genre from the extreme and post-apocolyptic to the mundane or lightly comedic . Sometimes in black and white, full of the thick stench of smoke, other times vivid and tantilizing with bright colors, textures, tastes, and characters to explore. Whatever the adventure, she leaps in headfirst, awaiting what the night holds in store.