The Breeze in the Leaves is like Laughter

Floating, following the current, I dip my oars in less and less; letting go of reality. The sunlight sprinkles through the trees; the breeze in their leaves is like laughter. I am lullabied by the canoe’s rocking. I lean back, then lie right down, cradled by the boat. The sky is a hot midday blue, collaged with spring green leaves. I am filled with warmth and wellbeing. I let my eyes close and enter a world of my imagination’s creation…

 

…Cold, whipping, wet, I am startled awake. I lurch up and grab at where the oars should be, but I’ve let them escape. The canoe is hurtling over rocks, captured in the rapids. I clutch the sides and brace myself. The sky is swollen with mauve and brown clouds. Waves smash over the prow and I desperately and fruitlessly scoop out water. The trees loom over me, the wind in their leaves is like laughter. The canoe judders over more sharp rocks; it catches for a second and then I am pitched forward. Freefall, waterfall, and as I fall I remember Alice and her rabbit hole drop and pray I have not yet woken up.