This morning had brought me a dream so curious, I still ponder its meaning... I sat, or laid, listening to a voice. I had interpreted this voice as truth and goodness, as its mellifluous tones carried throughout the non-structure where I envisioned nothing but the comfort. The voice's message was indistinct, having no value, as we would value words of truth or inspiration, but its tone was pleasing and enveloping. I endeavored to hear its message, as I knew it to be pleasing and meaningful, as a second voice then came to my aid, so to speak. Its meaning was also indistinct, but text had started appearing before me; complete with definitions and highlighted words, emboldened and moving. Moving, as in traveling past my view, as would a scroll, unfurling the meaning of the first voice. As I attempted to read the interpretation that the second voice was reading and scrolling before me, a third voice cast its amusing heckle at the second voice and its interpretations of the first. It contained no scorn, but the third voice was a hearty poke in the direction of the second scribe and its now voluminous, yet not overwhelming scripture. I had now lost the first voice in a cacophony of of too much music that wasn't unpleasant, a sea of informative text and a giddiness that formed from within at the third voice's merriment in dismantling the second voice's information. I awoke without understanding of its meaning, as there was no venue, nor context to be gleaned from the warm and nebulous aether from which I had arisen. I could only be sure of one thing... ...that damn snow blower in the garage isn't going to fix itself.

Posted by Slapweasel at 2020-12-19 15:10:22 UTC