I dreamed of boulders the size of houses falling alongside me, my head turned slightly, just out of range. I dreamed of houses tumbling into the sea, my stance firm as a heron. I dreamed of erupting skies and rivers sucked into sinkholes, trees toppled at the base and birds without wings. I dreamed all of this and more.
When I woke, the sky was new with sunlight and birds were at the feeder. The mountain stood in its place, as mountains often do. I thought then how utterly confused we are, traipsing this planet, largely unaware of the fact that we are spinning, the fact of nature’s eternal breathing and sighing out into the atmosphere. “Every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you,” Whitman told us. Yes. Right down to the single-grain, elusive, microscopic muck of it all. Yes.