the tiny metallic bloom
i had a dream the other night...
and its significance is so obvious, yet so unclear to me.
clarify if you can;
I found myself atop a grassy hill, vibrant in color and inviting to the soul. Peaceful butterflies flew from fruited orchards as they glided their way through the wind’s warm and sweet current. The endless sky held and sun of golden that reflected on still lakes that held immense hues of blue. A small canteen of water was found on my hip, and I felt at home and at peace with myself.
But awkwardly placed, only 20 feet of distance away from me, was a manhole surrounded by a small patch of dirt. From the small ventilation holes rose trails of steam. Its structure was rough and ridged.
The manhole enticed me, caught my attention and I couldn’t look away. I wanted to look inside of it. I wanted to open it. I wanted to see what made it so desirable. Step by step I made my way to the manhole with my eyes fixed on the rising steam it produced. But by each step, an emptiness grew in my chest larger. My heart grew weary and sore, tender to the touch. The more I tried to pursue the manhole, the more I wanted to cry. But I couldn’t. One of the most disappointing feelings I had ever experienced. Like not being able to sneeze when your body suggests otherwise. And the umpteen steps I had taken lead me nowhere other then where I began, still 20 feet away from the manhole.
I didn’t want it anymore. This manhole did nothing but pain me. Bring me down and lure me towards a disastrous downfall. And though it was hard, I pushed it away. I broke my concentration from it and told myself I could do without.
But before I knew it, all the beautiful, rolling hills and winding green valleys had turned to a vast wasteland of dry mud and dirt. The never ending orchards and the vibrant butterflies had turned to withered branches and unsightly moths, and the sky had dulled to a hazy maroon. All the beauty around me had faded to a soiled pallet of pastels. Nothing more, nothing less.
My heart grew heavier and began to water. I felt alone and scared. I grew a thirst, but somehow knew the canteen’s water wouldn’t quench it. With nothing left to do, I called out for forgiveness and a sense of direction, in hopes that someone would answer my prayers.
Nevertheless, I began to cry. And as I did, the sky emitted tiny flakes of snow. As if my sorrow and my internal aching had coaxed the sky to endure my pain as well. Like my cries for help had been answered. It wasn’t long before the ground was blanketed with a pure, thick coat of snow. While my first instinct was to shiver in frost, newfound warmth overcame my body. But there was still something missing. I just couldn’t put my finger on it.
I glanced to the manhole to see what had become of it after the fallen snow. Only to find that it was still in the state at which I left it; rough and enticing, but not worth my attention.
I spent the following moments building two snowmen, hoping that the two companions would share their company and fill the void in my heart. I built one with wisdom and strength, will power and courage. The other I built with love and compassion, advice and determination. Both were made with delicate craftsmanship. Once I was done I stepped back viewed what I had created and stepped forward to embrace each one in my arms, and in less than a moment they had made a transformation. In my arms I held Drew and Cameron, dressed in clothes of white. They looked at each other, then back at me with happy grins from cheek to cheek. Both companions brought my attention back to the manhole. A ray of light was now directly atop the manhole, and from a small opening in the clouds fells a large patch of snow. The manhole completely vanished as the patch became a heap and that heap became a mound. And from that pure mound of snow sprouted a small, metallic leaf.
I ran to it, to examine this metallic sprout. It was small and dainty, but pulsed with life and enthusiasm. I grabbed the canteen from my hip and slowly poured its water on top of the tiny bloom. The canteen only held a mere five drops, and that’s all it took for the small plant rose from the ground. I stepped back as it spiraled up and formed into a tall structure of gold and silver, and brass and copper. Enormous cogs and gears spun on the massive structure as it climbed into the heights of the sky, far beyond what the average eye can see.
Cameron and Drew were quick to hop onto it, climbing their way up with much agility and a sense of experience. I hesitated to follow, yet was guided to do so. And as soon as I touched it, that emptiness was filled, putting a smile one face and further warmth in my heart. So foothold by foothold, struggle by struggle I began to climb the immense formation. And as I climbed I found framed pictures depicting different points of my life. The highs, the lows and numerous in between. And so I continued to climb…
And at that point I woke up…
I have no idea what it means.
And I’ve been thinking about it non-stop.
If you can figure it out, let me know.
P.s: ask me about more of my dreams sometime.
and its significance is so obvious, yet so unclear to me.
clarify if you can;
I found myself atop a grassy hill, vibrant in color and inviting to the soul. Peaceful butterflies flew from fruited orchards as they glided their way through the wind’s warm and sweet current. The endless sky held and sun of golden that reflected on still lakes that held immense hues of blue. A small canteen of water was found on my hip, and I felt at home and at peace with myself.
But awkwardly placed, only 20 feet of distance away from me, was a manhole surrounded by a small patch of dirt. From the small ventilation holes rose trails of steam. Its structure was rough and ridged.
The manhole enticed me, caught my attention and I couldn’t look away. I wanted to look inside of it. I wanted to open it. I wanted to see what made it so desirable. Step by step I made my way to the manhole with my eyes fixed on the rising steam it produced. But by each step, an emptiness grew in my chest larger. My heart grew weary and sore, tender to the touch. The more I tried to pursue the manhole, the more I wanted to cry. But I couldn’t. One of the most disappointing feelings I had ever experienced. Like not being able to sneeze when your body suggests otherwise. And the umpteen steps I had taken lead me nowhere other then where I began, still 20 feet away from the manhole.
I didn’t want it anymore. This manhole did nothing but pain me. Bring me down and lure me towards a disastrous downfall. And though it was hard, I pushed it away. I broke my concentration from it and told myself I could do without.
But before I knew it, all the beautiful, rolling hills and winding green valleys had turned to a vast wasteland of dry mud and dirt. The never ending orchards and the vibrant butterflies had turned to withered branches and unsightly moths, and the sky had dulled to a hazy maroon. All the beauty around me had faded to a soiled pallet of pastels. Nothing more, nothing less.
My heart grew heavier and began to water. I felt alone and scared. I grew a thirst, but somehow knew the canteen’s water wouldn’t quench it. With nothing left to do, I called out for forgiveness and a sense of direction, in hopes that someone would answer my prayers.
Nevertheless, I began to cry. And as I did, the sky emitted tiny flakes of snow. As if my sorrow and my internal aching had coaxed the sky to endure my pain as well. Like my cries for help had been answered. It wasn’t long before the ground was blanketed with a pure, thick coat of snow. While my first instinct was to shiver in frost, newfound warmth overcame my body. But there was still something missing. I just couldn’t put my finger on it.
I glanced to the manhole to see what had become of it after the fallen snow. Only to find that it was still in the state at which I left it; rough and enticing, but not worth my attention.
I spent the following moments building two snowmen, hoping that the two companions would share their company and fill the void in my heart. I built one with wisdom and strength, will power and courage. The other I built with love and compassion, advice and determination. Both were made with delicate craftsmanship. Once I was done I stepped back viewed what I had created and stepped forward to embrace each one in my arms, and in less than a moment they had made a transformation. In my arms I held Drew and Cameron, dressed in clothes of white. They looked at each other, then back at me with happy grins from cheek to cheek. Both companions brought my attention back to the manhole. A ray of light was now directly atop the manhole, and from a small opening in the clouds fells a large patch of snow. The manhole completely vanished as the patch became a heap and that heap became a mound. And from that pure mound of snow sprouted a small, metallic leaf.
I ran to it, to examine this metallic sprout. It was small and dainty, but pulsed with life and enthusiasm. I grabbed the canteen from my hip and slowly poured its water on top of the tiny bloom. The canteen only held a mere five drops, and that’s all it took for the small plant rose from the ground. I stepped back as it spiraled up and formed into a tall structure of gold and silver, and brass and copper. Enormous cogs and gears spun on the massive structure as it climbed into the heights of the sky, far beyond what the average eye can see.
Cameron and Drew were quick to hop onto it, climbing their way up with much agility and a sense of experience. I hesitated to follow, yet was guided to do so. And as soon as I touched it, that emptiness was filled, putting a smile one face and further warmth in my heart. So foothold by foothold, struggle by struggle I began to climb the immense formation. And as I climbed I found framed pictures depicting different points of my life. The highs, the lows and numerous in between. And so I continued to climb…
And at that point I woke up…
I have no idea what it means.
And I’ve been thinking about it non-stop.
If you can figure it out, let me know.
P.s: ask me about more of my dreams sometime.