Even when I remember a dream clearly, I rarely have any memory of color. There are times when I’m certain about what color something was, but I can’t say with certainty that I saw the color, just that I remember that something was a particular color. Yet once I awoke with a vivid memory of beautiful bright colors. Once indeed I saw color. I call it my “cosmic vision.”
Evening. On a large patio overlooking a backyard is a festive family gathering ~ food, laughter, mingling. I’m alone at the end of the patio looking at the night sky.
It should be dark, but instead the sky is vibrant with pink and violet and every shade in between, each dazzling shade coming into being and passing away ~ a wash of colors, blending, eddying and pooling like liquid, like pink magma, like molten amethyst.
As I marvel at the beauty of the colors, the sky becomes vast, cosmically vast, the colors more brilliant than any I have seen while awake.