I Dreamt Of Africa

I dreamt of Africa.

I was a guest at a tribe’s home. It was a treehouse, and the only way to reach the ground was to free-fall with ropes wrapped around your waist. I stood on the edge of the entrance as I was tied to one of the tribe’s men. In the dream, I could feel the fear of falling; it seemed so natural. Once we were bound together, we descended to the earth while the rope unraveled around our waists. When we hit the ground, there were mountains and green pastures. The land was full of life; deer’s were running through the fields. Their fur blended in perfectly with the grass. I stood on a mountain top observing Mother Nature.

The sunshine made it all the better. As we were heading back home, I peered to the right of me, and there was my reality, It was home. It was a construction site, and it had desert scenery. It was two worlds standing side by side. I, however, chose to follow the steep path that leads us back to the village. When we got home, we informed the others that the land was full of life and the crops were growing. We were scouts, sent out to check on the ground.

I went to rest on the cot, as I was tired because I was carrying a new life.

I awoke full of life

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