Ever wondered what happens when cold rice hits the radiation fresh from an a-bomb? Me neither, but I dreamt about it once. The rice turned purple and swelled up like a balloon. The minature solo cup (yellow, not purple) full of rice dropped to the ground and clattered on the surface of the water until it came to rest. It didn't put a single ripple in the ocean's surface. The hundreds of infant balloons rose towards the sky, but didn't get very far. The mushroom cloud overhead stopped them from venturing into space. So they floated just beneath the fluffy, gray ceiling, growing and growing until they were big enough to hold several full-grown sumo wrestlers inside. I lassoed one with my scarf. I didn't need it anymore, the explosion had warmed the February air right up. My balloon carried me over the ocean. I fashioned a loop at the end of my scarf, stuck my right foot in it, and pulled my body up so that I had the perfect harness. The water was the bluest of blues, and it shone with the sunlight that had been shining on it full-blast only moments ago. The water bounced happily, calmly enjoying the day. Not even the shadows of the ballons touched its surface. All shadow stayed in the sky, with the cloud. I never looked back to the land. It must have been shrinking behind me, the stalk of the cloud feeding the sky as if it were a giant bottle and the land was the hand of the mother. The sky drank greedily but the mother never tired of feeding. The breath of the sky as it sucked the precious milk whistled past my ears, warm and moist, blowing my thin, blonde hair in my face and pushing my ride onwards with its siblings. Who knew where we were going, no one had ever been this way before. Soon, I grew dizzy, as the wind twisted and untwisted my scarf and set me spinning in all directions. So, I slipped my foot out of the loop and set to climbing. The wind made it difficult but I was strong. I the night shift at a department store. All we did all night was move boxes and boxes of new merchandise and rearrange the old. You developed muscle with that kind of work. I staddle the top of the balloon, and felt an uncomfortable lump in my back pocket. My keys! What if they popped the balloon? I rushed them out of my pocket and lobbed them over the side. They fell lazily, like a leaf drifting to the grass on a windless day at the end of summer. Right before they reached the water, they stopped and hovered a moment. The barrier between the ocean and the sky held the keys, as if deciding if they were worthy to bounce with the sea and experience joy. As if deciding if they were tainted. It decided that they were. The keys shot back up into the sky with a speed that would have made any racecar driver envious to the point of tears. Unfortunately, right above the keys was a balloon. They tore through the light purple membrane, unleashing a gale that screamed like a thousand banshees and sent the balloon straight into the cloud, where it prompted shrivled into a black wad, like a piece of paper thrown in the fire, and turned to dust. I felt cold all of a sudden and a shiver went down my spine as the black specks mingled with my hair as they flew past. I gently pulled them out, suppressing tears, and gave them to the wind. The balloon underneath me became unsteadied, and lolled back and forth and side to side. I had to retreat back to my scarf harness for fear of falling off. Twisting and turning under the balloon, I felt a tingle run down my arm. Then another, and another. I looked to see my skin shining and wet. The drops continued to fall, until I couldn't see for the wall of water and I was soaked to the bone. I knew without looking up that my balloon was unleashing great tears would have resembled condensation to the outside eye. I also knew that the other balloons were grieving, too. The ocean beneath us shook with hundreds of tiny splashes and it accepted new children into its depths. The water seemed to lose some of its blue as the mournful children tried to share their foster mother's joy. We drifted, and eventually my balloon calmed down enough to stay level. The emotional outburst caused the troop of travelers to spread out. Instead of one horde there were dozens and dozens of clusters all over the sky. Dozens of clusters and one solitary balloon in the midst of it all. I didn't know if he chose to be alone or if the others had shunned him for carrying the means of their brother's death, I didn't understand how they communicated. I climbed back on top and stroked the smooth, damp purple surface, leaning forward until my face almost touched his skin and my breath fogged his crown and blew away the beaded remanents of tears.
I'm sorry. I whispered, not knowing how else to tell him.
I wanted to protect you. There was no response. But I thought he understood, given that he hadn't bucked me off yet. I lay on my back and watched the art of the smoke over my head, the slithering, the swelling, the shrinking of the thick gray mass, the intricate patterns and designs that were so sensitive they changed every second. I fell alseep trying to make sense of them all and woke to the sounds of birds chirping merrily out my window from the popular tree that blocked the sun in the summer and let the warm rays in during the winter. I proceeded to get ready to depart and do the grocery shopping, but when I reached for my keys I drew back and decided that this would be a fine day to walk.
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gate_dreamer's journal
