You look down at the bare ground outside your window. It reminds you of death, of hurt, of your past. You stare down at it, scorching away in the hot sun. A restless feeling rises up in you. You tap your foot, walking around your kitchen, but always coming back to the window. Suddenly, you run out the door, hop in your car, and drive to the store. You grab everything you can think of that you might need- seeds, baby trees, shovels, and soil. You pay for it all without looking at the cost. You run back to your bare, hot, dried out yard, haphazardly carrying your supplies. You dump out the whole bag of soil, kicking off your shoes and getting on your knees to spread it. You start planting the baby trees in rows, one after the other. Then you dig holes in between the rows where you plant the seeds- flowers, hedges, anything green. Your hair is crazy and your clothes are covered in dirt. You run to the hose and turn it on, watering all your plants-to-be. After you watered everything, you put your hands on your hips, dirt under your fingernails. You breathe in the sweet smell of soil and plants, and you are no longer reminded of your past. All you can think of is new life.
*****
This is part of a series on dreams.
Opmerkingen