This Dream seemed more like fragments of thoughts than a story or narrative. I woke up in bed and again tried so hard to move. I laid here in this half awake and half asleep state, and tried for hours to move something. I wanted to scream. I wanted to pull these sheets down and see myself. I couldn’t even remember for a long moment what I looked like anymore. For a moment i was terrified that my body wasn’t really here, that this was just a form I invented to make sense of my new world. Then i could see the edges of my body laying in state under the blankets around me.

I felt back to all the moments in the dream, or dreams, i had last night. Trying as i have been to form some sort of pattern. Something that will give me a clue as to where I am. How i got here and how i can get out of this room.

The most prominent dream that i remembered first on waking was like so many that I have had before. A man walking down a pathway. A simple dirt path, leading downhill between gently sloped hillsides. There was short spring time grass growing out of the ground. Except for the pathway. It was dry, and bare of any weeds or grass. The man was walking down the hillside, and seemed so absorbed in his mind. He was walking not slowly, but not quickly either. Sort of an everyday pace that you could walk for miles without slowing or noticing.

I couldn’t see his face, and he never looked behind him. He never looked to the hills on either side. This made me have an overwhelming feeling that this was a place he knew well. Something like walking in your yard, or in your hometown. Something so familiar, that it blends together. It isn’t something to notice, or observe, it just is. He seemed unhurried, and peaceful. I don’t know if he was aware that I was there, and sometimes when i see these people i wonder if that is me. Could that be a memory of my own body. A memory of myself moving through my day to day life. It seems like i wouldn’t have dreams of such ordinary things like walking down a hill.

The pathway was strange as well, but i can’t remember what it was that i thought was strange about it. Nothing seemed odd, and nothing stood out to me, but at the same time it was off. I know i have had repeating dreams of trails. Dreams of the paths themselves. So many dreams where the paths are the dream and the person moving on them are just there to highlight them.

I know that these pastoral dreams are calming to me somehow. Maybe i am a farmer in the world? Was a farmer? Am a farmer? Does my being trapped in this room make my life past tense, or present. Or am I on hold here. I’ve thought about purgatory here. Like i am in limbo and waiting a sign to follow my dreams out this door. Move down the trail and see where things go from here. Not now though, it seems like everything is still frozen.