This isn't actually a new dream, but I was thinking about the earlier one of strawberries. I recall how, in a parable of the Buddha, a trapped man in a dire situation, eating a strawberry, teaches non-attachment. I know that story well, which might be why my mind used the symbolism.
Anyway, it's played on my mind, not played, but I have actually given that dream some thought, perhaps because it's so useful to me. This memory of leaving someone does cause me pain, and my mind or whoever, is trying to show me how to look at it, in a way that's healed. So I did actually write something, while sitting in a cafe mulling it over.
Life's a Bowl of Strawberries
Life's a bowl of strawberries. Most people go through their days with little bits of happiness scattered amid the mundane greyness of getting through the day – and luckily, most people are too busy to notice the darkness in the sky —or have enough alcohol to forget, and taste each nugget of transient joy in the empty wasteland as though it will last forever.
But every now and again, just once in a while, true bliss enters the greyness of a life, and it's colour is so bright, and it's taste so sweet, that the agony of the truth is overridden for a time --, that it's a part of the changing world and will change with it -- that luscious taste can only be in one moment in time – is unbearable. If only I'd realised at the time, the desert that we were in, that forever after I'd dream of the sweetness with a mouth burning dry – I'd have watched each moment minutely – and yearned to be free.
Oh Strawberry dessert enchantment, desert desserted, I am.
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