a field of dreams.

I was flying over a city. Not in an airplane or any other mechanical device. I was flying over a city like a bird. I was in a dream. This dream is over three years old.

The city I was flying over was very clean and pristine. It was like freshly polished silver. I could feel the clarity in the air. The buildings were well built and pretty. I do make light use of the word pretty here, these buildings were pretty.

But this wasn’t all there was to the city. There was another part, one not so clean. It seemed like it was still under construction, or perhaps post-destruction. There was rubble all around and on-going construction. Flying over this part I could feel the difference in the air. It was part of the same city, but the atmosphere was different.

And in the midst of all this rubble and construction was a field of oranges. From a birds-eye view this field stood out so strongly, more than any other part of the entire city. One part of the field was filled with boxes of oranges.

I wanted to get closer to this field and had made the intention to land near it.

But this is all I can remember of this dream.

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