“Cold laurel seemingly spreads shadowing over the briar in my drawing”
I had a dream. In my dream, I was drawing, drawing a clump of briar, of the colour red, the red of flame, flame that reaches out to wrap around me, warming me. But then a laurel cast a shadow over my clump of briar, and with the shadow came a moaning wind, bringing it snow, snow that waltzes in the air like fine salt. I reached out a tentative hand to feel it and it was chill to the touch, bone chilly it was. I jerked back and then I found my clump of briar gone, gone like wisps of smoke that never existed. All that remained was the tall laurel that cast its majestic shadow over me and I was chilled, so chilled that my eyelids grew heavy….