This story is influenced by the river like lines of the paint splodges, and their underworld shade of red.
A Perfect Nap
A long time ago I enjoyed the perfect nap, sitting on a deckchair under the sun. The sound of waves mixed with the knowledge I was alone in the dream recipe for sleep..
That memory was so strong, and yet for my whole life proved impossible to recreate. There was always something to get up for. Noises in the night. Phone calls. Lack of sleep worrying about a lack of sleep.
Until now.
The trip is more peaceful than I ever could have imagined. I lie on my back, the boat rocking on the water underneath. They remembered to put the red handkerchief in my suit pocket, and the cool fabric hangs over my face.
Smugness compliments the relaxation. I knew this journey was coming six months ago, and I used the time well.
A two pound coin was the highest one unit denomination available. When I woke up, a pleasing if tangy gold disc lay on my tongue.
Herds of people queued by the river. Nothing to worry about. This was an easy check in assuming you had some currency. But I had no desire to share the ride.
The riverbank was a fudge of cold mud. Many new arrivals widened their eyes when they saw me, even asked questions about what to do next. The ferryman ignored my presence for the longest time. After a few centuries he nodded every so often. I always raised a hand in return.
At last, after so many years of waiting, when his boat bumped up against the side of the river, I was alone.
The movement of the ferryman’s oar makes no noise. Scarlet mountains surround us on either side. I drift down the river in total silence, and everything is well. Although the end of the journey is a mystery, I am the most relaxed being in the whole of existence.
