This morning I woke up from an anxiety dream. While riding my skateboard down the sidewalk at top speed I fell into quicksand.
I had only gone waist deep. I did not feel danger.
Sure, my dress was full of sand, and passersby were looking at me funny. (Why didn’t they HELP me? — I wondered later.)
Only waist deep.
But I had lost my skateboard.
And that was precious to me.
I stretched my leg, my foot, my toe as far as I could, searching, searching. There! I felt something. I sank myself a little deeper. Yes, definitely the board. There’s the wheel! Now if I can only hook it — hook it with my toe…
Dammit, it wouldn’t work with just one foot. I moved my other foot to it. I felt it. Now, like pincers, the toes of both my feet held it tight.
While I sank.
This morning I woke up from an anxiety dream. And first I wondered, “Quicksand?? Why would there be a quicksand pit on a city sidewalk?”
Hours later, I thought, “…why didn’t anyone help me?”
And finally, just seconds ago, “… but… I why would I care so much about my skateboard…?”
I don’t own a skateboard.
I have never owned a skateboard.
Hell, I don’t even know how to skate…?
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