Meadows

I keep having that dream, the one about the meadow. You know the one . . . it is explained back there somewhere.

Anyway, I keep thinking of meadows past--ones which bring good memories of smiles, laughter, naivete, and most of all, flowers in bloom. The flowers in this dream are overwhelming--their colors are vibrant, their smells aromatic. They are everywhere--all different kinds, shapes, sizes and shades. Beautiful. Breathtaking. The thing is: they all seem to be in full bloom--giving the idea that life is teeming from their petals--that an endless amount of these colors is yet to come. Then I remember how spring turns to summer turns to winter. With that, things change. You know how.

Then my mind moves to thoughts of a different meadow that is similar in many ways. The colors, the vibrance, the life--they are all there, not in exact form as the other, but in structurally similar ways. The funny thing is that when I get to that future meadow--the one of anticipation not memory--even though I remember the previous meadow--I don't remember it in my anticipation. That is, the remembrance of Winter doesn't carry over into my dream of Spring. Is that because I want to forget Winter inevitably comes each year? Is it because Winter doesn't come in the meadow? Or, is that the nature of meadows or anticipation or both? If you expect Winter, maybe you wouldn't thinking of meadows in the first place? If you anticipate end, would you anticipate at all? Isn't that part of being-human though--end? After all, I have said here before, that all heavens are human because they are temporary. Does this apply to the meadows of anticipation or not?