March 23, 2013

Flashed back to a moment on the airplane returning from Turkey, a dream in one of those interrupted airplane sleeps. There was a huge, tilting, snow-covered field. It started low at a road which could no longer be seen, and climbed high up the side of a mountain. It ended in a line of trees, the beginning of a great forest that climbed the rest of the way into the wilderness. I had climbed the whole field, and was now at the rim, beyond which there was nothing but the dark forest. It was evening, the last light. I looked behind me, and though I knew I had climbed the whole hill, there were no tracks in the snow. I didn’t know what to do. The light was failing, and I couldn’t remain on the field, couldn’t go back, was afraid to continue on into the trees.

The wall is replaced, shoddily, but, I hope finally, and if finally then I’ll utter no complaint. The depression of bad things dragging on and on is hard on me.