Dreams of delight and despair wage war in her waking mind.
Pale dawn gleams under the blinds; golden patches of autumn trees peek around them; frost whitens the garden outside. Autumn is in its death throes, as the chill of winter tightens its grip. She inhales the crisp air and cuddles back into her plush, cozy bed. Cashmere and wool and wonderful feather-filled coverlets help trap warmth.
She closes her eyes instead, letting the remnants of her dreams seep over her. Rather than try to decipher them, she breathes in the good and gently acknowledges the bad. She’s not sure this will do any good, but the images – the scenes and sensations – still ring vividly. A second life, a second memory. And so, she thinks, it it best to keep them alive, at least in her heart, for they seemed to speak to a deep part of her, and she could not want to lose that.
Written: 5 Nov 2016
Inspired: life/environment this morning/me/my dreams/my night