Dream Peelers

During the middle of the night the swells were prime. It was nothing to go from Playa del Rey to Malibu in a black Tacoma truck. He wasn’t afraid to do what he loved even if there was no direct sunlight. Keen eyes adjust to the darkness.

Christian referred to a small portion of Pacific waves he rode as “dream peelers.” A surfer’s experience ridden language reveals how Lord God peels away the mermaid-elephant scales of our hearts. Earthen bumps on carrots and purple potatoes. Our skin peels in front of the sun. The peels of skin shed for our souls.  The sound of sacrifice never sounded so appealing, but you have to get wet too. Tearing is as easy as the waves formation. We all break.

He shreds in a black wet suit along a coastal sink. Living ain’t easy in the disposable. The dream lies bare by each swipe of Lord God’s hand. We long to ride away clean from the glossy enclosure. Doused in eternity with just one wipe out. A tissue awaits you. Dream peelers will see the revelation.