13 July 2019 The Mountains

Early this morning during my last snooze sometime shortly after seven, I had a short dream. My father and I were standing out front of our home, and I turned to look southeast out across the flat farmlands. It was late afternoon, just before sunset, and the air in the valley was unusually clear, as if it had just rained.

“How long has it been since you’ve seen them like that?” I asked.

He said nothing in reply.

I could see the Sierra mountains in the distance plainer than ever. They looked so near. They were larger and their vivid slopes dressed in pastel gold, green and purple.

“Mother should see this,” I said and went back inside.

I knocked on her bedroom door, and it opened for me, but she wasn’t alone as I thought she would be. Several people were with her, and they were all happily involved in conversation.

“Everyone out front,” I said, and they all rose to obey my command as if they knew I had something important for them to see.

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