A Dream
I fall asleep, but even as my head sinks into the pillow I find myself in a field. It is a grey evening, but there is just enough light that I can make out the outlines of hedges around the boundary.
I’ve come here for some reason, I think, but I don’t know what the reason is. Then, there it is—what I’m looking for is here. But what am I looking for? I couldn’t say, yet somehow I know it’s here. I look around, looking for something, anything that looks familiar, meaningful. Nothing. I look down at my feet. No clue there either. Why am I here?
I decide I might as well start walking; there’s nothing happening here. My feet start moving, and I can feel the damp begin to seep through as my feet kick the early dew from the grass. Here and there I can see bare patches, or areas where the grass is a little shorter, a little thinner—a little less wet—and my journey meanders through these patches as I waver between keeping my feet dry and making a straight line in the direction I’ve chosen.
I think I’m making some progress; the hedge I’m heading towards seems visibly closer. But dreams only last so long, and reality slowly fades in. I half-wake long enough to roll over and begin searching for another dream.
