Dreams that are simple, unsuspected, but remain carved in your mind in the years to come, sometimes dormant and sleeping, but ready to come to life again, like the embers of a fire never extinguished.
One morning about 15 years ago I woke up with a series of vivid images etched in my mind. I don’t usually remember dreams, let alone in such detail, but this time, for some reason, it was different.
There was uncultivated, wild land, and on the ground two streams, which flowed near an old, ruined farmhouse.
Years later, I continued to remember even the smallest details: the colors, the smells, even the sound of the water flowing between the banks, as if inside I knew that one day I would grasp the meaning and understand the implications.