Pulling the gate of heaven from the sea


It seems I've fallen into the pattern of writing these short pieces sometime before midnight when my eyes are droopy, and I am half in this world and half in another. These are last thoughts I have before I cross the ethereal plane into a nether dream world. Maybe that's why the tone is always slightly sleepy like talking to a child who nods off on the sofa but swears she's not asleep when to shake her shoulder. There's a mumble airy sound that comes from her and nothing makes sense except in that imaginary world in which most of her mind still lingers. Sometimes I can catch glimpses of that dream state here, in the real world. Yesterday, when I was standing on the beach watching the waves roll in and out across the waters, I could see the faint shadow of Mount Fuji as the sun slowly set its sight towards the horizon. On the pier there was a boy fishing. He looked so peaceful there angling his line in the waters, hoping to catch the night's dinner. I watched him for a while, and I don't think that he ever caught anything. I also think he didn't care. As long as the breeze was there and that beautiful sun, that seems to be all that mattered. From far away it looked like he was pulling the gate of heaven from the sea. Wouldn't that be something pulling the gate of heaven out of the water like a great big fish. That would be a tale one could tell their grandchildren.

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