There are times when Subconscious does some weird stuff. Last Wednesday night was one of those times.
Some friends and I are walking down a country road. One of my friends suggests cutting across a field to reach our destination more quickly. The only apparent problem to his plan is the raspberry hedge between the road and the field.
What starts in the dream as tamed raspberry branches quickly turns into thick, thorny, wild raspberry tangles. The more we force our way through, the thicker and nastier the brambles become. Scratched and exhausted, I stop to catch my breath when Benjamin Franklin steps out of the thicket.
Ben eyes my injuries and damaged clothing, looks at the brambles, and then asks, "Whatever are you doing, my dear?"
"Cutting across the field, sir."
He chuckles. "Revolutions are a young person's game."
I wipe the sweat from my brow. "With all due respect, Mr. Franklin, you were seventy-six when the war broke out."
"Yes, yes," he says, nodding. "Sometimes one must do things no matter how insane wiser heads believe you to be. But is this battle worth your time?"
I stare at the brambles ahead of me. When I first started, I could see the field and the road we had been on where it curved across the countryside. Now, all I could see were thorns and bright red berries. My friends had disappeared from sight, though I could hear them. "Maybe I need to give up. Return to the road."
Ben taps his walking stick on the ground. "Look behind you."
I turn around, and instead of trampled branches, a path covered in new grass stretches back to the road.
"You're already creating a new road, my dear." He pats my shoulder. "I suggest you sample some of these fine berries as you forge ahead."
He pivots to leave.
Ben pauses, peering at me through his spectacles.
"Will I ever find the main road once I get through the bushes?"
He smiles. "I dare say you will." Then he disappears into the thicket of raspberries.
I pluck a berry and pop it into my mouth. Nothing like fresh, sun-warmed raspberries. Then I resume pushing through the brambles.
I don't think I need a dream interpreter to figure this one out. Do you?
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