It was focused on dreams of copper. It was everywhere, and kept showing up on surfaces. Shining and sharp in color, it showed on so many things that it must have meant something.
It made me think that I have noticed my dreams aren’t of gold and silver, but copper comes again and again. This one seemed to see plates built of copper, and pennies. Strange that something so common can stand out so clearly.
The first penny was on a countertop, just sitting there. It was an odd penny because it looked so old, and yet so bright and new. The way a newly minted penny that hasn’t seen circulation looks new. Shining in a way that looks like the surface would flatten under your finger. Like it wasn’t real, and reflected the light in a way that seemed warmer than it should for something made of metal.
The second and third and forth i saw on the ground. Sitting on the pavement. Laying there like rusty washers. But not the rust of iron, or cheap steel. This was a burnished rust, something almost brown. It was a brownish, black and mottled over the skin of the coins like it was growing. It was funny how even though i didn’t stop to really notice the pattern on the pennies, i could tell you what they looked like without too much trouble. The shapes of the tarnish on the edges and face, and the almost lifelike feel of the color change. Like water or oil spilled on a flat surface.
The fifth penny i remember i found in my pocket. The back pocket of my pants. It was there when i reached back for a scrap of paper. I remember feeling it there, and not knowing how long it had been in there. I pulled it out, and I remember seeing a date, and reading it over and over. Each time, it slipped from my mind. Have you ever read a paragraph in a book. Over and over again, and each time, you reach the end to forget how it started? You can’t remember any of the words, or what it was trying to tell you? This is how this date felt. I saw it, and read it. Then, thinking about the penny, i couldn’t remember the date. Only to repeat the same steps a dozen times. Eventually, i gave up, and put it back into the same pocket. I couldn’t tell you right now what the date was. Why would that be?
The last five were the strangest of them all. All 5 pennies, all in the same place. I looked up from my walk and saw a tree. The tree had a notch in the side of it. It looked like a branch had fallen off the tree years ago. The notch had hollowed out over the years, until it was a little crevice. Nothing big enough for anything to live in, and low enough that I can see into it when walking by. But it was a notch that could fit maybe an acorn or two, or something about that size.
Stacked in that hole was a little pile of pennies. Almost perfectly stacked on each other, but slightly off. They were all centered in the hole, like someone had put them in there one at a time. I couldn’t tell you if this was someones little treasure chest, or if someone found them nearby, and just did it on a whim. It shifted my mind for the rest of the day. Thinking about how those pennies got there. Who took the time to stack five pennies so neatly and put them into that tree. Do they think about them still when they are home? What year was the penny in my pocket?