With the power of will I’m able to see the breathings of the earth. Maybe it’s just my eyes doing dubious tricks while pulling off-beat strings in my youth-dementia infested brain; but unless some alien probe or a mad scientist proofs me otherwise; I feel it is as truth. It’s like a useless super power, only there to make sure I will never intend to do harm against the ground that we walk and sleep on.
It is like magic mushrooms without the mushrooms; the whole floor, whether it’s stones, dirt, sand, grass or bedsheets will move like a sleeping belly of a animatronic Santa Claus. Some parts go up while others go down, like water waves that shouldn’t be really viewable and yet I see and feel them. When laying down on such an occurrence, I truly am moved by the movement; the world is a gigantic waterbed that inhales and exhales, full of life and we owe our own to it.
My sister and I are sitting on a bed. ‘Look!’, she says. I look where her finger points and see a beautiful orange butterfly, a marvellous orange hue with white dots on the paper-like wings. I unfold the palm of my hand and the butterfly lands in it. The butterfly splits into two smaller butterflies, then in four even smaller ones; two of which become even smaller, the other two becoming rather big ladybugs. Now they all merge into one big caterpillar with an orange paper flower on it’s back. He walks off my hand, off the bed and the camera zooms out, the bed is in the middle of a residential street. The caterpillar proceeds to the corner of the street, my sister and I follow him. A streetcleaning-icecream-vending van approaches, with noisy rotating brushes.. will he run over the caterpillar? With all my strength I push it away; the caterpillar is safe.