The Dream

Clutching an umbrella, I stepped from the low, brick house into the courtyard. The weathered grey stones swept away in concentric circles, harmonized by the lichen clinging to every crevice. Skeletons of oak and ash created a stark contrast to the slow boil of the misty clouds behind. The impossibly green foliage of nearby trees throbbed with vitality, and seemed to lend credence to my impression that the world was breathing with me.

But the incredible thing was overhead. As I peered out from under the shadowy shelter of my umbrella, I became aware that the whisper of the falling rain was much more intense than I was accustomed to. And then I saw it. The air was filled with the delicate ripple of impacted raindrops. As if there were millions of tiny, invisible surfaces for the raindrops to land, scattered throughout the air. As I watched, I became overwhelmed with the impossible beauty of what I was seeing. I tossed the umbrella aside, and spread my arms wide to welcome the absurd profundity of the moment. Joyful laughter surged up, and I let it go freely, to echo across the stones of the courtyard and dance with the living world around me.

I couldn’t tell whether the wetness on my face was rain, or tears.

It didn’t matter.

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