Blinding lights streak all across the room The sun is still in its rising position The beams blast through the old attic, illuminating the dust covered boxes It is a city of cardboard surrounding a solitary wooden chest that all but left my mind until my eyes laid upon it My name whispered in my ears Echoing all around my brain I’m drawn to the box and move toward it before realizing that I’m already in front it My hand resting on the handle in anticipation and…fear It feels reassuring to have my hand on the handle and grin starts to rip from my ears I fling open the lid Inside is a flower A dandelion A dandelion that I had picked on my last day performing in the circus A dandelion I had picked to give to the love of my life A dandelion that saved my life as I watched the huge tarp tent burn to the ground A dandelion that I gripped tight enough to draw blood from my skin as I watched white hoods and sheets running away from the blaze A dandelion that holds all of my pain, my grief, my guilt A dandelion that holds a past life of heartache and love A dandelion that holds…me

A twinge of pain spreads like fire across my neck as my hand smacks against it. The mosquito that had been having its fill of my AB+ supply suddenly burst in my hand not even having the time to enjoy its last supper. I stick my hand out in front of me and look at the contrast of the now dead insect on the pale underside of my hand which in turn is contrast to overgrown flourishing green of the field of which I stood in. Looking up, I’m reminded of the endless sea of tall grass that lay ahead of me. The same as the endless sea that I had just come from and the endless sea of which I am sure lies ahead. Every blade touches the skin of my body, surrounding me. It’s a late night walking through the streets of the red light district in Thailand. The pulling of their hands on unsuspecting flesh, their nails scratching against fleeting cheeks. It’s the passing around of a new born baby around all of it’s very handsy relatives. The fingers digging into the flabby flesh, the red lips caked in a vibrant red pressing heavy on the rosy cheeks. It is a soldier fallen into a spike trap in Vietnam. The blades lacerating the flesh, the points piercing the cheeks. I continue to walk through this field of tall grass as the blades continue to touch my body. As I close my eyes, the feeling is so vivid, so real, so…gone. Everything, gone. It is a memory I can never get past because there’s not much I can remember past the monotonous march through the ocean of green grass. As I open my eyes again, I’m in a different place. Another sea. This one, white. I look around and notice my family all around me. The same relatives who dug their blades of grass into me as a child are now doing the same thing to me now. Their fingers spread over me, digging into me, spreading life into me. I hear their chants as bits and pieces of where I am and why I’m here start to come back to me. Oh right…I’m about to die. I look around at another sea, this one actually made of water. It’s salt abundant, made with the tears streaming down all of their faces. And then suddenly, the sea of white starts to be filled with a blackish murky water. More and more black starts to invade the whiteness. Oh right…I’m about to die. A word crashes into my head like a toy car rolling down the big hill on hdj street. Malaria. Malaria…A childhood sense of wonder starts to take over me. This makes sense because as fate would have it because I’m a child. My short life has seemed like an endless transitions of fields and seas. The wonder that fills my head starts to move throughout my body. Little by little I feel elated, energized, inspired, weightless, alive. The wonder goes all the way to each nerve in the pads of my fingers as it reminds me of the sea of white my body lays in. In my recovering mood, I feel like I’m floating…I AM floating. My body starts to lift off into a sea made of air as I notice the sea of water start to increase. Through the increase of water, another sea comes through. This sea is filled with what sounds like sounds…screams…wails…pain? Before I could even think about the substance of this sea, I’m transported to a new place. I’m now standing in a field I’ve never seen before; a field of total darkness. This field is nothing, yet it is everything. I feel everything, and then again I feel nothing. I’m in this field and yet I am not. I am and yet I’m