monarch butterflies swarm a puddle as deep as a swimming pool. i'm standing there. the water is just above my waist. at first, i only peek at those butterflies. i don't dare touch. i look around but no movement. i don't want to make the water ripple and i don't want to touch the butterflies. i advert my eyes to a higher deck, the first floor of this boat filled but not filling. if the water is on purpose or not i'm not to worried about it. my eyes catch something i still can't make it out but seems like it's kind of smiling downward. overtime the foamy dream drips into my sleep and it kind of haunts me? at a certain moment in the dream my fingers pick up little pockets of water and i raise my arms way over my head like i'm waking up in the morning light and stretching of last nights slumber. when i do this, the water doesn't not seem effected, the butterflies still there in the water, motionless. it kicks me in the mind and i can't help but want to over analyze it, shake it, rip it into pieces and try to put it back together in a manner that would make a little more sense too me. i don't what it is. those butterflies, ultimate little faces i cant make out but their wings are fluttering against my skin in this invisible way that kind of makes me uneasy. a weird little notion i cant get over. a recurrence in my mind that i cant control. i don't know what it is, why it happens. an army of dead butterflies keeping me up. when i am asleep i am awake and when i am awake i am dreaming.
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