The Dream Time of Memory

Outside every window of this island house, one can view an expanse of water; a channel of ever-moving steel gray wavelets that flow between houses, trees and forests looking back at us from across the way. 

As a foreigner to this area and not being particularly inquisitive at the moment, I don't ask my hosts if the water is flowing out to the ocean or coming in to some sort of landmass. Anyway, in the time-space continuum, it matters not. It will all be gone in ten million years. Why waste my breath on useless information as no a-fishing will I go today.

Changing the scene is akin to changing your thoughts, only a lot easier. Here in this house by the sea, one in which I have never stayed before, there are no ghostly reminders of Michael's books, shirts, desk and papers, all lying in wait to vibrate my cells with the disbelief that a human being can simply vanish, leaving behind all the things he or she held so dear.

My heart-mind can't latch onto anything that would trigger the resentment of his disappearance. The laughter and chatter of friends who knew him even longer than me - talking about all their doings together, his behaviors, his place-specific behaviors, all seem real. 

He is alive in the dream time of memory and it feels good.