Saturday, September 23, 2017

Dream Journal

It's my mother. She is with me in the backyard. We are picking wild flowers. I am very young here, maybe four or five years old.

I can feel the sun upon my face as I gaze upwards towards the encompassing light.

I feel the flower stems twirling in my one hand. The other is held in my mother's hand.

It feels like spring, it must be spring. The aroma in the air makes me breathe deeply.

I can hear Dad calling us… it must be time for lunch.

I let go of Mom's hand and begin to run towards the back door.

I look back and yell to Mom, "Hurry Mom!" She says she is coming, but when I turn back around again, she is gone.


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