Living Art

I stared at the watercolor, lost in my thoughts like a canoe without a paddle adrift an endless lake. The flow and watery peace of the paint lulled me into a sort of trance.
The longer I stared the longer I realized the painting was moving. Out of the glassy lake came a ghost, pale and pure as light itself. I could hear it whispering, calling me into the world of soft edges and beauteous splendor. Deep down something in me stirred and I answered the call, delving into the unknown that awaited me.
Suddenly my eyes were awash, surrounded by a sea-green mist so thick I was swimming it in. I followed after the apparition, but it began to get ahead of me. I pushed faster through the mist as I watched her fade. My tongue had grown too heavy to speak, though speaking seemed wrong in this perfect world.
She had gone out of my sight. I couldn’t be sure if I was following her direction or just pushing through the haze in an impenetrable circle. I had just about given up hope when I felt it; a warmth, spreading through my body like a kiss from a star.
Alone in a nothingness that contrasted to the foamy mist that had been around me not seconds before stood a diamond. It’s crystalline perfection sent a chill down my spine. I walked toward it, pulled by the warmth it radiated. A piece of the sky it seemed, so untouchable and whole. It was as if the apparition from earlier had become this diamond.
My hand was on it before my brain even knew I had been reaching out. I was caught, frozen by the sparkling joy filling my eyes. It opened, turning into a doorway to the unknown. It was dark but did not hold fear. It held open a path, a path I knew I must follow. I stepped through the door.
The shine of a flashlight forced open my eyes. I blinked and held up a hand, pushing the yellow brightness away. A burly security guard loomed over me, shining the light into my face.
“Excuse me, ma’am, but the museum’s closing.” His voice boomed over the now empty art hall. I looked around, realizing I had fallen asleep in front of Van Gogh’s Starry Night Over the Rhone. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave now.”
I shook the dream from my head and stood up, nodding at the man’s request. He led me outside where I found my sister impatiently waiting.
“Took you long enough!” She exclaimed, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “So, did this make art ‘come alive’?” She inquired.
I laughed at this, wrapping my own arm around her waist.
“You have no idea.”