I had it again.
That dream.
It visits me every now and then
each time
more vivid
than the last.

I find myself at the foot
of a looming mountain.
Surrounding me
are pines
as tall as my eyes can see.
A sharp wind blows through them
as it does through me,
and something within beckons me
deeper
into the forest.

It is not long before I come across
a lake
crystalline
and placid.
There is something deeply sacred
about this reservoir,
and in every iteration of this vision
I stand by the azure edge
observing the calm that washes
over the weariness
of my soul.

As I make my way up this peak,
a light snow begins to fall
but it does not chill me.
The palatial pines begin to thin
and soon
all that lies ahead of me
is a solitary trail.

This is where the dream usually ends.
But not this night.

I reach the summit
and before me lies a small valley
laden with near alien structures
made entirely of ice.
Appearing vacant,
I make my way down the icy slope.

A familiar hum emanates
from these frigid deposits.
Their nature is not known to me
yet,
as I run my hand along their smooth edge
a peculiar feeling of recognition
washes over me.

A reflection appears
behind my right shoulder
in the glassy ice before me
and I see myself.

“My son,”
it whispers gently,
“At last.”

The reverie ends.
The previous sequences of this dream
are places that I have visited before
in waking life
but the summit
and all therein,
is unknown to me.

Puzzling.

~LT