I dream of stars

(TW for mentions of suicidal ideations)

Companion Song: Downtown- Majical Cloudz

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Just as that one writer said “I don’t dream of labor”, I say “I don’t dream of death.”

I don’t dream of sharp pain in my wrists, my stomach, my head, around my throat- I dream of the murky afterwards of death. Of slipping into inky blackness. Of missing a step in the Waking world and stomach-swooping into the Dreaming. 

When I was young and full of summer I’d ride my bike to the public pool and spend my hour of freedom in the hot tub.

It felt like a womb, a warm all-over hug- my favorite thing to do was fill my lungs with air and lie face-down in the water like a starfish, floating in space, untethered, warm warm warm.

This was not my lifeguard’s favorite by a long shot. They’d poke me with their long red floaters, chastising- “Don’t do that, kid. You look like you’re dead.”

I don’t dream of death. I dream of closing my eyes and never waking up. I dream of nothingness. 

Of vast expanses. 

Of no stars. 

Of peace.