I never learnt to swim.
I hated it- I feared it.
The water felt cloying, suffocating, smelly.
I'd cling to the steps,
shivering for an eternal 40 minutes,
until the lesson was over.
Not even the instructor,
prodding me with his pole,
could budge me.
And yet- in my dreams- I glide, I dive.
I float just beneath the surface- calm as a breath.
Warm, enveloped, safe.
No lessons. No fear. No need to be taught.
It feels so natural, comforting-
as if my body's never known the technique,
but my soul has always known how.
Maybe that's the gift of dreams.
They unwrap truths our waking selves can't reach.
Maybe my mind remembers something my body didn't.
Or maybe I was never meant to learn it-
but just to carry it quietly, inside.