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I had one of the most beautiful dreams today. It was about 9 am, after having woken up the first time, but since it was the weekend I still went back to bed. When I went to sleep again, this is what I dreamed:
So the scene was around this time of year, late September. I was in some park, or some less developed area of Vancouver. Someone was with me, I presume my brother, except he was a lot older; I would say about ten or eleven years old (he is around five years old right now). Though it technically was five years into the future, I still felt young, as if adulthood had not engrained itself in me yet, as if I still could experience the blissful ignorance of youth, as if I could still just take in the world around with without a care as to everything else.
The sky was blue, a crystal blue I had so long been deprived of during my month-long stay in China during the summer. Not a single cloud in sight. The blueness of the sky blended so perfectly with the deep greens of the evergreen trees which dotted the park.
My brother ran down an asphalt path, a path cracked near the edges due to the regular cycles of freezing and thawing during the coldest winter days. What struck me about the path was the fact that it was crumbling; it was now too narrow for a bike to ride of comfortably. The wider path about ten meters away, which ran parallel, I presumed once was an outlet road for park maintenance vehicles, but now was barely wide enough for two people to walk abreast.
I walked up to a tree, a regular pine tree which homogenously covers the taiga forests. I picked up a strand of fallen pine needles, and tried to loop it over a branch on the tree. Beneath said branch was a bee’s hive, but it had large holes in, so I presumed it was not used anymore. Maybe I should have been more careful, because as I threw for my first attempt, I noticed a few bees moving in and out of the hive, but I did not care. I was mesmerized by the beauty of this late summer (early autumn) sky and though as if the sea of blue above had washed away all my capacity to care or worry about the less jovial aspects of life, my brother told me that the autumn would be cold and rainy, more so than average, but I didn’t care, and I continued to try to throw the pine needle strand onto the branch without really aiming, since I was still staring at the sky which I felt would perhaps stay there for a few more weeks.
