The Dream?

I find myself walking down a wide sidewalk, I am watching my step as a summer rain has just ended and the sandstone under my feet has a tendency to be slippery. I do not know how I know this, I have never been here, yet walked this way a thousand times.

     I am in a time I have only read in books. I know I am close to town as the houses that are bordering the street sit like statues welcoming you into the heart of the village. In this time, the houses close to town show importance, with carefully cultivated gardens that mirror the greatness of what must lie within.

    I take a deep breath drinking in the roses that surely must be the trophies of this time and place. The rain now passed has left the air clean and the sun that now shown created sparkles like fairies in the raindrops that remained. I smile because I am almost home.

    As I turn the corner I see my destination, a great white Victorian that only hints of its' grandness through the massive old oaks and dogwoods, the front gardens are lined with newly trimmed hedges, a trellis bursting with blooming roses serves as its gate to the front door.

    This is home, and as if to confirm it, a rainbow appears in the distance perfectly framing the grand structure. I see smiling faces greeting me on the front porch.

  Now I can see myself walking through the trellis to my loved ones beyond, but I am no longer a part of that person. I am in bed, dreaming. I cannot hear the words, or even find out who the people are.

   In a week, or a month, or even a year from now I will walk down that street again, just as I have a thousand times. I will never know where this place is, who I was. I just know this is more than a dream, and someday I might walk through that trellis gate and I will understand.