Bed on the Mountain

At the very top of an overlook, the lower valley surrounded its view, 360 degrees.  At the crest sat a bed, heavy dark wood, with low round balusters with a ball cap.  White sheets and duvet covered its king size.  White marble ran on the floor from under and out ten feet. 

She had no idea where we were going, as we started hiking up through the vegetation of the island.  No, it wasn’t an island, I saw no water.  Stairs lead up the final ascent, no railing obstructed the panorama at the top.

On the surface of the covers, she sat next to me;  light red hair flowed down her bare back.  Crossed legs, looking out onto the beauty below, the profile of her tanned nakedness, contrasted with the billowy cumulus clouds, ever changing in the background just to the other side of us.

Where are we, here with each other, with this surroundings?  Beauty, all around, makes this special place, flash into our being. 

Reassuring her, there is no worry about all around us.  Even rolling around on our bed, falling out to the ground, on the hard floor, then down the hill to the valley below would never happen.  We are on top but secure in where we are. Only our decision will change that. 

Open to the vastness, uncovered allowing the surface of our skin to touch the surrounding air.  Movement of the clouds ebb and flow, from our spot, no part  feels winds movement.  Senses take in every particle surrounding our simple palace.  Sun heats the crust of our skin, baking the oils and perspiration seeping out of our pours, its fragrance waves through the air to inhale.  Everything jumps around us, the view of each other’s freeness, in a picture of ever changing enchantment. 

When a thought comes to mind, I’m thursty, I’m hungry, I’m tired, I’m hot , I’m cold, these needs are taken care of by thoughts.  An invisible servant, that’s not there, takes the demand, making it so.  No hurry, time moves as you wish, pleasure of the changing view as shadows form with the lowering sun is brought in.  Light dims to darkness, to nothing other than millions of celestial bodies.  The darkness, its proximity like the two of us, can be touched like the surface of our skin. The sky is so much, looking out into the massive expanse, smallness creeps in, inward down inside the two of us. 

Can the real sensation of this dream become touchable to us, desiring it, aware it exists, a place you only read about, wishing it were real.

Sugarloaf mountain, poolside at St. Bart’s, monastery in Umbria all your life you must sacrifice some of your creature comforts to reach a place, so a part of your being, a place so significant you simply have to close your eyes to be beamed back to that space and time.

Perfection of this realness can be controlled, replicated in a space. 

It is so real you feel like you are there, is the dream a real possibility. Go someplace you’ve never gone.

I will take you there if you wish to come along with me.  Don’t get lost in everyday life.