Kuckucksuhr

There is blackness, not quite scary. Dripping dripping dripping of what you realize is water, but from where you ask. Crouched in the corner of a room without a corner in the black dripping wet, huddled knees to chest. Head on knees. You wonder with all this bleak imagery why you feel whole and then you see it… the hole where the warmest glow is coming from in its blurry and hopeful mass. You see an owl and remember you are in a barn, but why? Floating memories sink passed, and you pick out nothing exciting, but everything fulfilling. You see yourself in a car surrounded by cornfields on a dirt road, well at least a rural road clutching happiness in your arms. That happiness, you wonder if it even exists, or is it part of your imagination, but why would you imagine Cabbage Patch Kids cereal? Since when did brushing your teeth become a happy activity and why out of all the things to remember is it the mundane activity of brushing your teeth with the neighbor across the street?

You keep searching all the rooms of the house you have committed to memory, a house full of poor memories, but then you find just the thing. You are standing in front of the stairs and suddenly you see a door leading under the stairs and why has this magical door never shown itself to you before? You find the people you wanted, but you were hiding their identity from even yourself, but you also knew who it was because you saw. You do not realize it then, but someday it all makes sense. You keep trying to get back to that door, but the house keeps telling you that it never existed. You believe it, but you never feel right, the lack of a whole piece constantly gnaws at you.

You are happiest and most terrified of the water, you float, swim, flop, travel and breathe in the same water you cannot seem to make it back down into. You are so high above you wonder why flopping inside water is so much more fun than your stomach flopping above water. You finally make it back down in the water, but before you can calm down you are back up again flopping in the way you never want to flop.

You are at the bottom of the World dipping your toe into the deep, black water you fear, but also welcome. You can see yourself from above zoomed out far enough to see you are at the tip of the World, but then you are right back down to see the water drip from your feet. You want to be at every part of the Earth and you want to see yourself doing it all at the same time. You are on an adventure in the ocean, and you keep going further down which elicits far less stomach flopping than going above. You pass Blue Whales, Beluga Whales, and icebergs. How are you doing this? Ah, yes, you are in a submarine. The luck you must have to be chosen as the only civilian crew member on a trip through the ocean and you can check off your list the ability to see yourself from every far-flung corner of the Earth.

You hear a noise, of drip drip dripping and you look all around the house to find where it is coming from, and you find the culprit. You grab the German cuckoo clock also known as a Kuckucksuhr and you look inside the hole where the little person is supposed to come out of on the top of each hour. You see drips of water and notice a person crouched in the corner that does not exist. You feel the warmth coming from yourself, the love of love and you glow upon the person inside and you know instantly they are alone, but they do not feel alone. You realize there is a piece of comfort in the dark and dripping corner because the love you know radiates onto her. At some point you manage to open your eyes and realize you are not in a barn at all; you are in a cuckoo clock.

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