dream_garden epitome of incomprehensibility The brief February thaw (it's February in the dream) provides a window for planting seeds. I can also wave my hand over the grass to change it from one colour to another. When I return, new plants have sprung. I pull out a whole pea plant by accident and see that it sprung from two seeds: one a pea, another a lemon seed. "Taste its flowers," the voice of an unnamed man suggests. I pick three delicate flowers, yellow instead of the usual white or violet. Chew them. Make a face: they're lemon-ly sour. 250103 ... e_o_i If I lift up foliage, I can see tomatoes from last year. One plant is still going, but the tomatoes on it look overripe, bruised, their liquid shifting below the surface. In a hole, new tiny tomatoes grow. Already? Are they dried ones from last year? Maybe I can use them for seeds. I brush more brush away, and I'm staring down a deeper hole. Rectangular border. Like a foundation, I think. But when I look down, I see the frame of a wooden crate...piled on another wooden crate...piled on another one. Down, down. They don't appear to go on indefinitely, like twin mirrors reflecting each other, but they do go several stories down. I don't know what this means, if anything. Boxes of produce forming the soil = something backwards? Overturned? Not necessarily in a bad way, just confusing. 250416 what's it to you? who go blather from