Sunday, February 26, 2012

Grass. Green Grass.

So I had another interesting dream early this morning; these are the remnants:

It was a summer evening, and I was running around a campground. I don't recall who I was with, but I do remember seeing these really wide steps made of massive rocks. In the blink of a dream eye it was morning (within the dream), and I was speedily crawling along a well-known street from my childhood town. (I still see the street, from time to time---there's really no business for me to frequent it). I remember seeing the familiar fire station that sits upon this street, but there was no paved road. All I remember was grass. Very green grass.

Source: via Tim on Pinterest

Fresh green grass. Cool as my hands and knees crawled over it. I had to get to a field. When asked by a faceless stranger why I crawled, I totally logically explained I was making the same motions one makes when riding a bicycle. (I still don't know how to ride a real life.)

I opened my eyes. Tried to hold on to the dissolving images and scenes from my dream. This is all I could keep.

It's overwhelming.

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