river dream

I had a dream about the river in front of the house. I’ve had several. Here’s the one that I remember most…

I am on the top of the hill, with my back to the house. It is daylight, the light of late afternoon, the sun orange and from the west. The river is before me, and the descent of the hill on foot, for once, seems possible. The walk down through the forest is brief, passing by small roads, houses, taverns that have no analogues in real life. I cross the main river highway that skirts the shore.

I am flying. I follow the river as it flows west and south. I fly with the river far past my home and my city down towards its mouth, where it joins the Mississippi.

But here, it flows underground. South, and underground. The cave it flows through is lit, though, and the water itself is luminous, a bright blue that can only be clarity itself. I have still been flying, but here I dive down into the water.

I think I come up from the water, but here is where I wake.