The Garden

Last night in part of this long dream that involved meeting some internet friends, driving down the road in car that must have been invisible, and being in a big city, I was creating a garden.

I ended up in a very tall lovely redwood home somewhere along the line, and outside was a lovely garden. My responsible was caring for part of this garden. I can totally understand the imagery here too. I had about half an acre, there were lined out rows of crops, but I KNEW they were actually going to be flowers. the grass had grown up all around the newly sprouted plants, so I was out there trying to weed away the grass. The little sprouts looked ok, not withered of dying. I was trying to get my son to help but I realized he was too young to understand what was going on. Then after that, the strangest thing h appened.

There were mounds of dirt all around the edges of this garden. These little hills of dirt were singing! but they would only sing if no one was looking. Sweet little acapela tunes, that woke me up every day, but as soon as you went out to look at them, (or actually they could see you) they would stop singing. It was lovely music. I could hear all the other people in the house complaining about the little dirt clods singing, and I got angry. For some reason, or somehow I was responsible for them singing. I had trained them or something.

then I went to eat breakfast. really cool dream.