I’m standing on the bank of a river mid day in summer. It is hot, and the ground behind me is black, the field having been burned. There is no shade. Upstream is a green island with cottonwoods. A gravel bar stretches towards the island, and after the bar becomes submerged it looks shallow enough to walk to the island. But the current is swift, and I know that if I go out far enough there is a channel I can’t cross.
That image isn’t from a dream, it occurred in waking life, but it should be interpreted metaphorically the same way it would if it had been in a dream.
That image isn’t from a dream, it occurred in waking life, but it should be interpreted metaphorically the same way it would if it had been in a dream.