Water, everywhere around me, immersed for hours on end, somehow comfortable. Avoid the determined chasers searching out my hide.
Before the water, uniforms, a wide circling ring of carmine on right arms, the centred white-on-black symbol variant but similar, sparking memories of horror near a century past. So many today corralled by shot, by threat. To the overwhelmed, invisible to eyes but not minds, the cuttings of their freedom and dignity lay like discarded shards on the razor-wire demarked ground around them, mocking.
The hypocrites didn’t catch me; they try. Darkness arrived as my ally. In the time since, from various lake-points, their overconfidence shines like the lighted vehicles and boats radiating a bazillion candlepower spots etching light into the becalmed surface.
Their efforts aim for me, and how strange a feeling, oppositional to our familial day start. Now, a country depends on me, she without ideas, but the only person free to sift an infinite range of possibilities.
Our own, few but enough and extreme of views, turned hard on the rest of us, fuelled by a reservoir of hate. They gussied their vision in the finery of freedom, using bold declarations of less government, when the only less government ideas they spouted revered property. People, they regulate. Too many stood aside. Now, these many lock down in disbelief and remorse over undetected oppressive planning.
A mental supernova cramps my face. Inside me, a condensed storage singularity explodes, an unsheathing personal universe surges, overwhelms, and reclaims. I’m not of this place; I’m a visitor. Undesired this new old me, nor its destiny of leadership, to overcome and achieve, another shock for loved ones.
Spirit overcomes reticence and broadcasts a summoning thought. Over the water it settles, awaiting my clamber aboard, its disarmament systems thrumming with the strength of peace.
(Author’s note: this story is loosely based on a dream from years ago, where I swam for hours, avoiding Nazi-esque chasers my dream told me came from South Africa, which was a curious villain to summons, since it was post-apartheid. A dear friend who emigrated to Canada is of SA origins, and her stories of life under apartheid, of how as a child she was quietly defiant, captivated me. Whether this played a role, I know not.
What I do recall is the spirit of the chase. I relished their bumbling efforts, loved my swim-about. I *knew* they wouldn’t catch me, and somehow knew I’d find a way to stymie their oppression, through quiet earthly but opaque means. Who knows where my brain can go?
I didn’t commit this one to blog, although I did several others.)