Heat Wave.

The hot season has arrived.  It is only interspersed by the occasional monsoon, which begins with a flash of lightening and is followed by a crack of thunder so loud it rocks you on your feet.  Then the rain pours down in torrents, sometimes all night, and the air turns blessedly cool for a day or so.  But mostly, it’s just hot.

A week ago, I woke up in the middle of the night in the monastery.  I was lying on top of the bed, buck naked, without even a sheet.  The fan was blowing straight on my body, and I had it turned on high.  I sat up with a gasp, coming out of steamy dreams where I was drinking endlessly from a flowing river, but never quenching my thirst.  I reached down to the side of the bed, and grabbed my water bottle.  The water that I poured down my throat was warm, almost hot.  It was two in the morning.

I staggered out of bed, and made my way blindly to the bathroom.  I turned on the shower and stepped under the cold water.  It was a shock to my body, and it took my breath for a moment, but I continued to turn under it, soaking my limbs, my stomach, my hair.  Then I stumbled back out into the darkened bedroom, dropped on top of the bed, and let the fan blow over my wet body.  I had a few minutes relief, and then fell back into troubled, red dreams.


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