Nicole Page-Smith, Heaven sketchbooks
Said the Elephant to the mouse: You are needed.
The Elephant then, jumped on the mouse's back and carried on.
Said the tree. Now trees speak a language of trees and they are there for the birds. Birds fly and sing their song but the song of the trees is different. Trees are for the wind so they say and blow to extend themselves and stretch their limbs to the answer of the sun and the water curling up their trunks. Oh, the roots. Roots tend to talk about gnarled things and grow above the earth, shooting down and then, across. Firmly placed and in fact rooted to the spot, tree roots are earthly focused.
The water table you would imagine would speak of the Nile.
Sleeping a long while in the sand the Sphinx said, was a pastime. Sleeping and silent, whole gods of sleep. Gods of sleep and dreaming of sand, Medusa may spring out of the sand. Heads are often known to release flight. Angels from Heaven. Wolves and beasts of old museums, speak to you of passing journeys and highwaymen of the night, this could be simply an illusion said the cat, out there at night while sculpture glows in the moonlight. Your imagination, the Elephant said.
Hypnos flies down to brush your forehead with sleep. The tip of the wing. Winged sleep. Elephants have a good memory. Constellations of sleep have us dream a sleep and we fly up above to the place of sleep, our dreams take us to heaven. The unconscious is the place where philosophers reside. The dream includes the constellations. Hypnos speaks to your dreams. The language of the feathery need is like the feathery eiderdown or dream. We speak the language of birds.
Twittering away, we speak. Angels are in heaven but we dream. We dream. We dream. We dream. To take us to the angels. Dreaming you go to the place with the angels. We are philosophers and they sleep our sleep. Sleeping with angels takes us to the unconscious, an intuition. Dreaming, Elephants they provide the gallop, herding, running, they stampede over the stars at night, a mystical traverse across the sky. Elephants said, they can be heard in the early morning, squeaking, chirping then, roaring their trumpet. As the roar is heard vaguely in the distance the new day dawns. The sun. Rising with the trees and the birds, stars go back to sleep, while elephants meditate on a new day. Elephants awake, said the mouse, squeaking. We ride the Elephants, the philosopher said. The mouse is sacred to the Elephant headed god, Ganesha said, talking to the seven heavens. Heavens wake our dream. Awake Elephants from your sleep and trumpet. Speak of the light and dream.
Elephants, traverse, heaven and mystically take us to the stars at night. The seventh heaven, said the mouse. Speaking the language of the stars, reflection was noticed. On the ground, squirming lines annotated star patterns, they inform our every need. Twinkling away at night, while we sleep, you would not think we were being informed. Communicating away, elephants know our language and hold our memory as if it were their own. Speaking the language of mythological beings, monsters and god, elephants speak with trumpeting to be heard in the jungle. Pegasus flew out of Medusa's head and the Centaur galloped away, cats and hybrid snakes, slithered, or barked and quacked like a duck. All evening they speak to the stars talking via the gods. Anubis the great protector. The seven heavens and the seven seas. Oh, Ganesha.