dream (15)

A long line of people stood waiting, their hands carefully clasped around their gift.  Each of them held a precious handful of seed.  Single file, the line led to a tent where a woman waited to accept the seed, and put it in storage.  At the door of the tent a tall, thin man was pacing.  His skin was wrinkled and ashy, and he was slightly hunched at the shoulders.  His eyes were dark and his brows furrowed with either anger or worry – or maybe both.  One by one the people entered the tent, silently and almost without motion, signing away their handfuls of seeds.

Suddenly there was a stirring.  A woman, dressed in white, stepped out of line – a bold move.  Approaching the ugly man, she held up her gift.  It was not a handful of seed that she carried, but rather huge stalks of grain – teeming with seeds at its ends. With confidence she clutched the stalks close to her body and spun away from the man, not caring about his orders to stay in line.  Off she danced to some music in her head, into the surrounding field, into the brilliant sunshine.

The wind seemed to carry her as she went along.  Her arms reached upward to the open sky.  She waved her stalks of grain back and forth, in figure-eights and in circles, to the rhythm of that song in her head.  The stalks were radiant and white and from them flowed soft clouds of seeds which drifted in the air and settled on the field.  This delighted the woman, so she kept running and waving the stalks to the music only she could hear.  Soon the entire field was covered in a thick layer of the soft white seeds . . .

. . .  and then her husband came home and accidentally woke her from her dream 😉

* will resume wheat/dairy-free blogging tomorrow…


2 thoughts on “dream (15)

  1. This took my breath away. literally.

    It reminds me of something Thoreau once said: “If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away.”

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