The Field

I keep having this dream. I'm walking in a field. It's really late, or maybe really early. I feel safe…I think. I don't know where I am.

The air is cold. The grass is wet, like an early morning dew has settled on it. My shoes are damp from it. I'm walking, but I don't know to where.

There's a light in the distance. It's the sort light you'd see in an empty baseball field, but there's nothing around. It's just me and this field. I'm walking towards the light. It feels like I've been walking forever.

How did I get here? Is this a dream? It feels so real. I'm not sure what it means, but I'm pretty sure this is where I'm supposed to be. For some reason.

Yesterday I felt alone and out of place — like I was all by myself in the universe. I don't remember what happened between then and now, but here I am. I should be scared, but I'm not. I'm completely indifferent.

It feels like I've been here before. I know I've been here before. It's so familiar, but so unique. It's eerily mystifying. What the fuck is this place? Why am I here?

I don't know where I'm going. All I know I have to get there. Somewhere. And until I do, I'm stuck in this field. This cold, lonely, barren field.

And even though it's empty, it feels like it's not. It feels like it's full of everything. Nothing makes sense here. I think I like being here. Why do I like being here?

I'm looking up. The stars are so bright. I don't think I've ever seen so many stars before. Each one is like a compass leading me somewhere. Which one should I follow? Which ones are real?

I see trees in the distance. Pine tree's. The kind you'd see in a beautiful painting of New England. Am I home? Is this where the universe has taken me? Is this where I'm supposed to be?

I guess I'll find out when I wake up. If I wake up. I'm sure I'll wake up.

Until then I'll keep walking in this field. The trees — they can't be that far away.