Cranes
I dreamt of plants in the windowsill. Succulents. Small ones. I an up-righting them and putting small pots into less wobbly pots so they can stay standing. One is a cutting of an ivy, a small branch, sitting in dirt. Dry dirt, light brown, sandy.
I water the plant, and it immediately sucks all the water into itself, sucks all the dirt up into it, turning white and growing profusely as it waters. The dirt is in it's veins now, so i water it more, and it turns into many easter lilies, 15, maybe 20 or more. All are dripping wet, heads hanging but happy and still drinking water. The lilies are cranes now, white cranes, asking for hot stones to keep them warm. I run to the courtyard and am putting my toes on the stones to look for warm ones, but it's been raining and there aren't many. There are young boys in the courtyard, I tell them what I am doing and they try to help. I run back to my bedroom and the cranes are gone. No! I look out the window and they are flying. They needed warmth. Some return, some are circling overhead.
I water the plant, and it immediately sucks all the water into itself, sucks all the dirt up into it, turning white and growing profusely as it waters. The dirt is in it's veins now, so i water it more, and it turns into many easter lilies, 15, maybe 20 or more. All are dripping wet, heads hanging but happy and still drinking water. The lilies are cranes now, white cranes, asking for hot stones to keep them warm. I run to the courtyard and am putting my toes on the stones to look for warm ones, but it's been raining and there aren't many. There are young boys in the courtyard, I tell them what I am doing and they try to help. I run back to my bedroom and the cranes are gone. No! I look out the window and they are flying. They needed warmth. Some return, some are circling overhead.