Hive Dreams

on January 29, 2015 in Fiction

In my dream, I am made of bees.

I wear my own form, but shimmering, writhing, buzzing with bees. Singular of purpose but not of action, we flit over the grass towards a woman made of flowers. Stragglers hurry to catch up, daring scouts dart ahead. We race in orbits around ourselves.

We apprehend our lover through a thousand thousand faceted eyes. We see her in shades of blue and ultraviolet. We know her. We know the taste of her before we alight on her multifarious organs, but then we taste her for real, and for just one moment, we know unity of action as well as purpose. We are not calm, but we are at peace. We drink her in and we know.

Then I wake up, and so do you.

“I love you,” you say.

I drink you in, and we know.

We know.

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