lithosphere ovenbird My subconscious is unstable, a system of fault-lines, miles of subduction zones primed to slip. When I dream, the tectonic plates that lend structure to the self slide, sinking one beneath the next, heaving nightmares from the deepest ocean onto the devastated beaches of my mind. I dream earthquakes that liquefy the silty soil beneath my feet. I dream tsunamis that suck every drop of moisture from the land as they gather and then loom up in the form of two hundred foot waves. My synaptic connections rearrange themselves over night, violently, forcefully. I am always running from one cortical disaster or another, desperate for higher ground where I can stand trembling and wait until the waters recede. These are terrors, to be sure, but I wonder if they serve another, protective, purpose. I wonder if my anxious mind releases pent up pressure in dreams so that the landscape is more stable during the day. Thoughts and memories, worries and traumas, hurts and desires–transformation occurs at their convergent boundaries creating new peaks and valleys to traverse in waking life. When my eyes open to the day it is always to a world made new with layers of strata suddenly visible where cliff faces collapsed overnight. Each morning comes with the kind of silence that follows a cataclysm. I lie still for a moment, waiting for the first hint of birdsong to tell me it’s safe enough to step into the day. When I stand the ground stays put, but I can hear the subterranean growl of rock meeting rock, building, every day, towards chaos. 250623 what's it to you? who go blather from