I open my eyes. Sunlight presses through the slits of the blinds, illuminating golden specks of dust that float through space. I press my face back into the pillow.
I dreamt of Mount Olympus and of a great feast with the old Gods. In my dream I was welcomed by Zeus himself, who told me the celebrations were in honour of my homecoming. When he smiled sparks flew from his fingertips and fireworks sprang from his eyes. In my dream I drank wine with Dionysus, who told me about the primal pleasures of hedonism; I went to war, arm in arm with Ares, who conjured blazing fires out of thin air; and I discussed love with Eros, who taught me how to string a bow and fire an arrow straight through the heart. In my dream I met beautiful Aphrodite who seduced me without saying a single word. It was a dream of love and thunder and I wished to have not been woken.
It’s still early. But for the cawing of a crow outside, the world is draped in silence. Unable to return to the dream I lie there for a while longer. Eventually, failing to remember its details, I get out of bed and open the balcony window. A cool breeze enters the stuffy room.
A light rain is falling. I listen to its gentle pitter-patter and breathe in the smell of a fresh summer morning. I watch the crow hop-skip cheerfully, picking at this and that on the cobblestone ground and I feel at peace. It’s the perfect weather for a morning jog.
I tip toe into the kitchen and watch the kettle boil. Opening the window, I notice that the light rain has grown into a heavy downpour. Over the past weeks there have been floods all around central Europe – still, having just returned from southern Italy I feel parched of the wet weather. I welcome the white noise and its cleansing properties with open arms. I listen to the trickle of the drainpipes and the gurgle of the gutters, and I watch as the water rushes by while my coffee brews. In the serenity of the morning, it feels as if everything is alive, the flowers, the birds, and the trees, all playing their part in soaking up life as it falls from the sky. I close my eyes and attempt the same; to absorb the energy of the morning directly into my soul as if I were able to purify it. Feeling stupid, I quickly stop and resign to sipping my coffee while the sunlight pushes against the clouds, blending grey and gold.
Suddenly, the heavens shake. The crow takes flight. The roof sighs under the strain of two clouds colliding and the walls tremble at a heavy clap of thunder. A white bolt of lightning streaks through the sky, flashing hotly in front of my eyes; and the crow, black as the night, hits the ground with a wet slap. I watch in horror as it lies there, smouldering on the cobblestone floor.
Maybe the Gods aren’t too pleased about my homecoming after all.
The End
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