sometimes i dream of dark water.
whether in a pool at nighttime with all the lights turned off and curious illumination from within the depths, or in the wide open seas with unknown fathoms leading down to monstrous cephalopods.
never sure what dreaming about water, the ocean at night, being surrounded by the comfort of the waves and currents, but knowing that at some hidden level there lurks creatures unknown.
most of the time it's circling orcas or ululating humpback whales. they're never dangerous per se, but have a sense of menace and curiosity at the same time.
in some dreams i sink ever so slightly to four or five body lengths below the surface, and i can breathe! i love those dreams because you have a breath and you can see sharp and clear. as someone who has severely impaired vision, a life without eyeglasses and contact lenses is bliss.
i would swim down into the dense black, explore caverns with bioluminescent amoebas. these beautiful dreams allow me the opportunity to face fears, skirt some dangers, and remain near-lucid.
upon waking, i miss the sensation of the body of water cradling itself all about your being. it's the melancholy of finding yourself in the real world, on land, and devoid of the clutch and caress of the entire universe.