Lying sprawled out on the bed brings forth the image of my body, me, floating atop the ocean. Belly up, limbs spread. My mind becomes lost in this scene.
I remained as still as the water allowed, hoping to appear as nothing on the surface. There was no sensation from the water, just the movement, which leads me to believe I'd been out there for days. I can understand or perhaps remember why a person would panic and their body thrash. In the water, there is nothing but yourself to cling to.
I'd stopped thinking, my mind only measuring the time between each heart beat, each breath. There was no purpose to thinking out there.
I felt more a molecule of water than of human composure, though this barely came across.
Suddenly, my body and mind stirred. Perhaps I was sleeping. The urge to sit up caught me by surprise. I bit my smooth, wet lip and debated. Nothing must be done. It was merely an urge and a choice. I shrugged my pale shoulders and lifted them up quickly- my naked breasts, ribs, and abdomen to follow. I was not stunned or amazed. I dragged my buttocks towards my heels and lifted my body up to a standing position. Water drained from my every pore and orifice. The pressure of which I was certain would drag me under. I exhaled and water escaped the corners of my mouth. From my ears, nose, and the tip of every hair dripped beads of water. My fingertips resembled tiny waterfalls. And from my womb, I felt contractions. The water thrusted down my thighs, around my calves, and between my toes. I was taken by the thought of giving birth to the ocean. At this notion, I smiled, a womanly grin. My eyes sprung open. Salty tears rolled from the corners of my eyelids and off my thick eyelashes. My arms stretched up till only my toe-tips held my body up. I inhaled. My legs twisted and I began to move. To walk on water.