The Middle-Aged Man and the Ocean
Noctivagating Dark Oceans of Fear
When I dreamt that I would drown, sitting at the edge of our backyard on woody Laburnum Avenue in chipper Charlotte, North Carolina, I didn’t realize that the dream would become my future.
“Listen to your dreams” the Bewilderbeast in the back right corner of my water closet would whisper in tones of derision and spectacle. “Dreams”, he would iterate, “are that part of the rapidly melting iceberg that is invisible to your eyes, but exists, already, just beneath the silvery surface.”
So now I dogpaddle or flail, a middle-aged man in an ocean, which is the world now…waterlogged, and softening for the fish to chew.
Art by Woody Williams (Funky Geezer)