Hello,

I had a dream and would love hell interpreting. I walked to the center of field, surrounded by tall stalks of wheat. There was a little area there where I could sit on the ground and use this tree stump as a table. I sat with a piece of paper and I wrote. I was so focused on my writing, I didn’t move or notice the people who occasionally would pass by and wave to me. I did not leave or notice the seasons changing, I just kept writing occasionally looking up or around, speaking my thoughts aloud or developing them and the writing again. As time went on and the more I wrote, the wheat would rustle sometimes brushing my cheek and I would look up, seeing a forest straight in front of me. Eventually, the light wind turned into a roaring wind. At first I still was focused on my writing, then when it seems like the wind reached its peak, I grabbed my paper and pen. Stood up calmly faced the forest, turned to the right and then walked off into the distance.