Fickle Signs.

I had a dream in which I was in a dark underground cave system, aware of the imminent probability of either a rock fall or flash flood. The prospect of being trapped with no hope of escape, of being left to die in a cold, dark place from either suffocation or drowning, was not pleasant. Every time I woke up and dozed again, I was back in the same subterranean world. Eventually I overslept badly and awoke to a morning almost over.

It was another sublime accident of timing, for when I got up I was treated to a sting in the tail of an old story that’s been echoing rather a lot lately. Had I gone out into the light of day a mere half minute earlier or later, it wouldn’t have happened.

So where does this lead me in my search for meaning? Nowhere. By late afternoon a soft golden light bathed the landscape, while a soft marbled sky overlooked it all with reassuring benevolence. There doesn’t seem to be anything else to say.