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Three Dreams

December 28, 2017

A week or so ago I had three dreams in a row, seeming like a sequence.

Someone was charged with attending to a large, glass, rounded terrarium-like structure, but this one held water and water plants. The water was brown and foul in every way, and the plants were covered in muck and were struggling to live. The attendant worked steadily at replacing the water and cleaning the glass and plants, until finally the glasss sparkled, the water was very clear, and the plants were growing hardily, below the surface, floating on the surface, and reaching up into the air.

A small river flowed in front of me, maybe thirty feet wide. I heard a man begin to sing, a song that was more or less Appalachian. His voice was rather mediocre; and as he moved along the river to the right, his voice got worse and worse, until, some miles on, the river just sort of petered out. But then another man began to sing, with a pleasant voice; and the farther he moved along the river to the left, the more beautiful the song became, until he arrived at a mill where the water flowed in great abundance over a falls.

The third dream was longer and more striking. When I woke a bit as it ended, I thought, I’ve just had three dreams in a row, and the third was an especially good one. I’ll remember it for sure.  And I fell back asleep. In the morning I couldn’t remember a thing about that third dream. I still can’t, so I’m letting it go.

What is the meaning of this?

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