I just know I’m free. And I’m not bothered. I do see vineyards, and a bottle of wine on a short small table under a tree, on a hill overlooking Napa Road, but that’s all the dream gives me. And a voice, talking a tongue I can’t decode. And I don’t need to. I pass the wine and walk around. No one around me. Free. And no devices.
I walk to another tree and see a red bird, petit, not chirping just looking down at me and I walk more, no wine or weather or clouds, just openness, views, free I feel, and I’m aware it’s a dream and I don’t want to wake to others and talking and obligations and numbers and work– the excess domesticity, and the talking and questions, I’m thinking this while walking then the bird follows hovers above me and chirps in this light and loud staccatos.
Wine again. On a table.
I’m afraid I might wake soon and lose this freedom, this walk, the me that I met in this dream. Then I see myself walking, above view, aside this bird, and what I see is a character liberated, smiling, nothing to order him or direct or judge him.