make it dream djjdjdjdjddjdjdj

      i know i am dreaming. i am shaded but sill baking. salt thick in the air and thick on my lips,  for the heat i cant see the sun.towering ponderosa pines shifting and groaning on the breeze, making it twilight, with only thin slashes of light between the trunks. the Forrest around a summer cabin,mixed with a rode trip through California red woods.
    needles scrach me. the sap sticks to my hands and hair, fir filling my nose, sticky bitter in my mouth, remembered from a childhood of running in the woods.
moving forward,stopped  under the branches, knot in my lower back and in my shoulders. my cheek and forearms sting.  watching my feet trudge through shed bones of the trees.  craking and snapping under my feet,  toasted a Carmel brown on top, rotten to mold silver dust underneath after i kick it up.

getting stuck in my socks, pricking and itching. with sweat, on my temples, under my shirt, dripping. making  a curved path down my face and around my stomach and spine. i want this to stop,a  lucid twist, and i am there, stepping through the thicket last dusting of pine needles

     a beach.or rather a ledge.massive boulders shattered and warn to smaller stones showing red and orange, and painted green in the water below.here is openness here. wide cloudless sky, and flat fading desert. the lake is in a basin, the lake is twisted, cut from rivers, making a deep bowl in the desert, bright blue against so much red and brown. with one island in the middle,with a light house, bright and hard line of white in so much red and blue.lake Powell.

       i came here when i was 14, with my mom dad and sister, when we went there was nobody, but in my mind it is a crowded beach. people with towels and umbrellas placed carefully on the rocks crowding the cliff and the slope to the beach.
 a lake and people a, relief after a Forrest, brown trunks, brown needles and my own dirty brown hands, red  and blue are the colors.

   corporate red : towels, umbrellas, bikinis, all trying to blend with the red stone.
red sunburn bodies lain about. looks hot and shiny.pink. suntan lotion and salt after miles of pine refreshes my nose.and the lake matches the sky, not a cloud in sight, hopeless blue.

     down the slope, cat stepping around  people and carefully between towels, down to the water line. I take off my shoes and peel off my socks pine needles and mold fall out. musty clammy foot sweat. pants  rolled tight around my calves, with feet cool in the water. the sky is a bowl framed in red earth. even when my eyes slide shut, i see red. water laps and talks,so clear and blue i can see the bottom it looks so shallow, like i could walk across the whole lake.


  but poking at the edge of my mind is The light house. inorganic and odd. it was not here when i was awake, so why would i make it when i am asleep? rigid hard white, a half remembered Greek building sitting on top of a sandstone pillar. squinting to look at the bright whiteness in the blue and red.

another twist and i am there, standing at the lighthouse door. pushing open cool glass doors and up thin steps. the top i can look across the entirety of the lake.