Trance of Thought
by Jonathan Quince
Wednesday, January 21, 2004 19:18:40
The eyes. I shall remember always the eyes.
They glint cat-like in the silvery moonlight as she looks down at me. Relaxed, I am, entranced; lying back on my bed as she stands beside me, my torso level with her hips, I look up at her as she sidles up to sit down by me. The light of the deep winter night changes everything, giving the world around me a surreal quality, monochrome in liquid silver tones. Her hair falls over her shoulders, straight and beautiful silken strands woven from the cool fabric of the night.
I am at the bottom of a pool, I realize, looking out at her; and she sees me as a reflection in the water’s still surface. To her, I am nothing more than an illusion; the light plays tricks across the calm waters of the pond, bringing her visions of a lover awaiting her embrace.
She reaches out her hand to caress my face. As her fingers brush the surface of the water between us, the world ripples. The fabric of the universe has liquefied; reality moves like quicksilver across her palm as she draws her hand through the surface of the water, lazily drawing it through her fingers as she considers her descent into the cool unreality of the pool. Twin orbs of feminine lunar energy connect to the swirling vortices of my eyes as she gazes into my vision, opening her soul to me.
Her existence holds only in my mind’s eye, a private fantasy dreamland reserved for my night-time trance betwixt the waking world and the nether lands of sleep. She is formed of thought; her mind is an extension of my own, her body an ethereal spirit-form drawn into existence by my idle imaginings. But I feel her weight upon me as she leans down, falling through the surface of the pool, and her lips open as the move to meet my own…