A tired old sailing ship feels outdated and longs for rest and retirement as she sets off from the port. Her wish is unexpectedly granted but it is a new chapter of life.
Somewhere between waking and sleeping on our journey towards the unfathomable deep, there comes a thin moment where we have one foot in the waking world and the other is in that other world where.
We relinquish conscious control.
Pausing here and straddled between two planets that drive one another like gears, the attentive traveler will notice a narrow door only wide enough to sidle through.
This is the border of sleep, where imagination and reality are braided together, a chasm in the crust of consciousness, venting the hot pumice of imagery into the irresistible magma of narrative.
Welcome to episode 59 of Stories from the Borders of Sleep, a podcast of curious tales created and voiced by your host, Seymour Jacklin.
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Me, then I shall begin Mother Voyage by Seymour Jacklin Mariella could feel it in her timbers.
There was something different about this voyage.
There was a heaviness, certainly from the cargo, and she was sitting a little lower in the water than was comfortable.
It was all rice and grains sitting deeply in great sacks in her hold, with only a few inches of oak between them and the sea.
She kept thinking how if any water got in there, they would soak it up and drag her down quickly.
Usually she gave very little thought to this, and she liked the profound stability offered by the extra ballast.
The heaviness was somewhere else in her, too, a new sensation.
She was tired.