The Fishy Bird

One Of The Paintings I Made When I Was In A Good Mood... 

I Was A Child And I Dreamed This Same Dream All Over Again...

I was in a labyrinth of doors. I knew there was a way out, but I also knew a creature that looked like a fishy bird soared through the rooms behind the doors. I knew it was a bird of stone. If the creature found me, it would destroy me. Every time I opened a door, I entered a room with 6 others doors in the walls. I had to choose one of them, but behind any door was a room with 6 other doors. It was a never-ending labyrinth of rooms with doors.
All the walls of all the rooms were a cerulean color and looked like skies or water. I opened door after door, walking trough cerulean room after cerulean room, while I felt haunted by the bird of stone. Unexpectedly the bird of stone swam or soared through one of the walls, like the walls were no walls at all but made of soft tissue, and it attacked me. It attacked me by speeding in my direction and putting its beak around my face. It tried to swallow me and I fought with it until I escaped. A huge fear of death filled me up. I ran from door to door into room after room and whatever door I picked, I always entered another room with 6 doors.
Finally I opened a door and all of a sudden I was no longer in the labyrinth of doors but on the shore of the North Sea. The sky had the color of dust and the Sea was wild as on a stormy day, although I didn’t feel any wind blowing. I noticed I was naked and looked around me if anyone was at the beach could see my naked body. The beach was completely deserted and a thick mist covered the view. Even though there was no one there who could see me, I felt ashamed and fragile being naked. I started to run in the direction of the untamed sea. Now I felt a strong urge to hide under the surface of the water, to hide for the bird of stone. While I was running over the endless beach I remembered I had nearly drowned when I was three years old, and that I was afraid of the water since then. Nevertheless I wanted to shelter in the gray waves that looked like heavy jaws, like hungry maws.
I ran naked through that colorless landscape of sand and mist as fast as I could. I ran until I stumbled because something grabbed my ankle. I fell on the beach and saw a hand pointing out of the sand, holding my ankle. I felt panicky, recognising the hand as my mother’s. I squeezed her hand six times to let her know I understood she needed help and she let go of my ankle. Rapidly I started to dig away the sand around the wrist, trying to save her now that she was buried alive. While I was digging the sand from around her wrist, the fingers of her hand opened and closed like a flower, as a signal I had to hurry because she was suffocating. After a little while, when I had only hollowed out the sand around her elbow, her fingers stopped moving and I knew she had died in the sand and that it was my fault. I kept digging sand away, crying, and when I looked up I noticed maybe a thousand hands sticking out of the surface of the beach that were opening and closing their fingers like flowers.
I looked at the sea and the waves came to rest. Above the water the bird of stone hung motionless in the sky, and it accused me with the look in its blistering eye.