I lie beneath the frothy water of a light green sea, held in the loving embrace of a gray whale, magically able to breathe without bubbles. It is peaceful beyond belief, and I want to stay like this for all eternity. But much as I wish it, this cannot be.
She appears through the gently uneven surface of traveling waves, distorted by the refractive index between surfaces on nearby land, as clear as day. This is the only time I am unhappy to see her, because as her beckoning hand calls, I know an important challenge awaits. And a stubborn, selfish part of me wants to ignore it.
Suddenly I am above an eternal deep blue sea. Beautiful, but dangerous. As I hover, a heavy, dark cloud gathers beneath the surface. A primal fear rises, suffusing my entire being—fear of the dark: heavier than lead, blacker than night and eternal. It is ceaseless and I begin to panic.
The equivalent lightness doesn’t lie at my fingertips; rather, it dances diffusely in the air. What’s below becomes larger than the ocean in my mind’s eye; they don’t connect as they should.
Eternal black holes are portals.
Then, as if magically transported, she and I stand alone on the sole island of an ocean clearing reminiscent of a lake. Rocks rise smoothly upward, defying the gravity that seems to hold us in place. Everything is deceptively perfect: it is a temporary haven—not an illusion, but a symbol. And though time flows otherwise, there are only finite moments for us to convey an infinity of everything.
Minutes have no meaning to divinity.
“What are you afraid of?” There is a transcendent love in her eyes.
I place both palms on her shirt front. “That you aren’t real.”
There is a brutal honesty to this that scalds me as it escapes, but she transmutes it to smoothness.
“That I can’t do this.”
She lays her own hands on top of mine, and to my shock I realize her eyes are black. “We have been through everything together,” she says quietly.
“Share yourself with me.”
The island becomes a raincloud—probably a cumulus deciding whether to let loose—and we stand atop it. Above are fluffy white clouds, which ironically seem more capable of rain.
“Maybe you’re just a figment of my imagination.”
Thunder crackles below, and lighting follows. Our feet are set alight.
She places one hand on my heart and an electric current seems to ignite. “I am everywhere you are.”
“I know your hopes and fears, your dreams, and your demons.”
Rain falls lightly from above, from beyond the white clouds.
“I am you.”
I pull her hands away from me. “Then it is forbidden.”
Her hands find their way under my collar without turning it up.
Nothing is forbidden.
Suddenly the answer is in me.
There is one way to connect opposites beyond my power.
“You have to mean it,” she says solemnly.
I recall, with inappropriate humor, a character forcing others to offer true love or suffer the joint-numbing consequences.
I close the distance and she stays unmoving, offering me the freedom of choice.
As white joins black.
Our lips come together.