3:18 am blinks on the alarm clock.
It’s about that time. When night tide recedes and morning tide rolls in. When everything is covered in a thin, translucent haze. The difference between sleep and wake is negligible. Abstraction bleeds into reality, everything structural morphing into shapes and colours, dimensions fading the world now stands as a Yves Tanguy painting before the amorphous fragments evolve into surreal and fantastical visions.
Dreams are now tangible, and while between sleep and wake you think that you really are in that forest soaring through the clouds, trees touching the stars as you speak to a mountain hermit surrounded by day glo moths watching the Brachiosaurus munch on the airborne leaves.
With no indication that this is merely a hallucination, you decide to stay a little longer.
Darkness clings on, dark clouds born of the night convoy by the wind-driven trails.
Sun rises, clouds caught in the aurora. Black turns to orange, loam lights easily – a slow burn, all-consuming.
The abyss fades out, the azure fades in.
Tattered rag of black – orange, then white explores the uncharted blue yonder.
Picture found here: http://miscellaneous-pics.blogspot.com/2010/07/yves-tanguy.html