Defying Interpretation

I was swimming in a pink ocean, full of silver dolphins. The waves licked my legs, like thousands of velvet tongues, while I was paddling towards the boat that would take me back to land. Not long after, I felt myself being lifted cleanly out of the water by a man in blue. I never saw his face, but he smelled of newly baked bread, of cinnamon candles, of home. He bent down to kiss me - where his lips touched me, small flowers sprouted, until my whole face became a field, with rows and rows of tiny sunflowers, dahlias, mums and sampaguitas. I opened my eyes, to see him, to thank him, but he'd already flown back to where I did not have the courage to follow.

He'd left an envelope, which contained a key and a letter, in the boat: I love you, he'd said, wait for me until the sea comes to claim me. At the very bottom, he'd scrawled, as much as his fin-arms could allow him: P.S. In the meantime, please take care of my house. There are tangerine ants in the sock drawers, the spray is high up on my 12th shelf, where I keep your letters.