[...] sleepy one, revisisted - the second dream
His eyes were closed. He was dreaming of sleeping, his back pressed against a tree trunk, sunlight streaming through leaves and filling him with warmth. The wind rustled the branches, and the cicadas chirped quietly in the distance.
When his eyes opened, he found he wasn't alone.
A crow perched on a nearby, low branch. A bat huddled in sizable hollow in the tree trunk. A fish swam in close by in a nearby river. Growing all along the riverside were flowers, all different kinds and colors; some were a lovely star-shape, others were definitely roses. He leaned back again, his eyes sliding shut.
His left hand reached to the side and found what it was aiming for: a small pot. His right hand--no, his right paw--dipped into the pot, coming out with a pawful of warm honey. Opening his eyes, he licked at the golden honey slowly, savoring the sweet taste.
The cicadas kept chirping in the distance.
A while later, he was still going. He was, apparently, an extremely slow eater. Before he finished, however, he decided to offer some honey to each of the three other animals--and each seemed to like the honey very much, thank you. When the pot was completely empty, he put it down, and reaching into his satchel, took out a journal.
He flipped through the pages, all different kinds of pressed flowers and a single black feather stuck between the leafs. Finally coming across a blank page, he picked one of the many riverside flowers and placed it into the journal, closing it with a satisfactory pat!
He nodded.
The cicadas kept chirping in the distance.
When his eyes opened, he found he wasn't alone.
A crow perched on a nearby, low branch. A bat huddled in sizable hollow in the tree trunk. A fish swam in close by in a nearby river. Growing all along the riverside were flowers, all different kinds and colors; some were a lovely star-shape, others were definitely roses. He leaned back again, his eyes sliding shut.
His left hand reached to the side and found what it was aiming for: a small pot. His right hand--no, his right paw--dipped into the pot, coming out with a pawful of warm honey. Opening his eyes, he licked at the golden honey slowly, savoring the sweet taste.
The cicadas kept chirping in the distance.
A while later, he was still going. He was, apparently, an extremely slow eater. Before he finished, however, he decided to offer some honey to each of the three other animals--and each seemed to like the honey very much, thank you. When the pot was completely empty, he put it down, and reaching into his satchel, took out a journal.
He flipped through the pages, all different kinds of pressed flowers and a single black feather stuck between the leafs. Finally coming across a blank page, he picked one of the many riverside flowers and placed it into the journal, closing it with a satisfactory pat!
He nodded.
The cicadas kept chirping in the distance.