Gods in Stones in Mountains in Love

Trekking through forest on a lazy sunday afternoon with my best friend and my lover. A rare intrepid spirit shared among us. The mountains surround.
At a clearing in the woods, the toes of a colossal statue peek out at us.
I run out to find that the toe belongs to the foot of a god. The god is carved into the mountain. He stretches as high up as we can see. Standing upright, he is steep.
Ancient indian god, Brahma.
We set out to climb him, up his skirt and smooth chest, the beads of his marble necklaces, over the sharp features of his face.
Above him is another statue, and then another.
We climb over the yellow knee of Vishnu, the purple breasts of Pavarti. We climb up and up without much resistance, the marble surprisingly easy to grip.
Feeling the shapes of their bodies and our small flesh scrambling over them like mice.

At shiva's leg, trickling water starts to form the mouth of a stream.
I follow the brook up his side. The water picks up a current at his trident, enough to swim in fully submerged.
There are some jagged rocks in the stream, but they are avoided by leading with the arms.
The current carries us silently, swiftly, without any effort on our part. The water breaks from the mountain and takes the form of a bridge or acqueduct. We are suspended for a mile over the a valley connecting the godly mountains.
Divine, divine, the trees and mist that breathes to them!
Divine the mountains that hold these mountains!
Wondrous to be here, right to be floating, giving this journey all our hearts!
The water is warm; we toss our clothing into the abyss.

At the foot of the river, there is a miracle: opposing currents meet.
Water falls down from the hair of Kali, crashing into our upstream current.
The result is a watery equivalent of fireworks.

A second mountain of gods and goddesses offers itself to us.
Trees are visible on either side now; more protection, proximity.
Wet hand and footprints on the chest of Hanuman; we dry ourselves in the air.
These carvings are smaller than the others, and easier to climb.
Over halos and triple headed demons, narrow bellies and almond eyes.

I run my hands over the eyes and noses of each statue, like a blind person learning the face.
At the top, two figures which are far older than the rest and have some paint on them. Their style is less monumental, more suited to the size of a temple.
'These are the originals', I guess out loud. 'The inspiration for the whole series.'

Ganesha, his black trunk laying down the length of his body to his dancing feet.
I crawl down it, feeling the ridges, admiring the painted green brocade of his dress, the gold on his bracelets. My lover is laying atop the statue of Ganesha's consort*, head on her belly. I meet him there, after feeling the curves of her red waist and breasts, touching her cheek.
Finally my hands grow tired and I head for him, curl up on top of him, wrapping him in my small frame. My own mountain.
We make love atop the goddess. Neither the gods, the goddesses, the mountains seem to mind.

*The consort of Ganesha is an dubious term to use here since Ganesha is depicted with various companions. Often, he is pictured with a kind of generic human female or shakti. In other depictions, he is accompanied by Saraswati (goddess of culture, beauty, music) and/or Lakshmi (of wealth, abundance). I can't profess to know which of these was really in the dream, but i'd like to think my dreambrain was kind enough to perch us on top of Saraswati...