As soon as I close my eyes they are open again.
A thin layer of lavender mist hovers over the scenery. My eyes adjust to the dim dawn, a shade of blue as if it were the twilight between two worlds. The air smells crisp and sparrows sing in the neighboring trees, and everything else beyond that is silence.
Out ahead of my footsteps is a lake. A shimmering crystalline surface, undisturbed, with the same diaphanous mist blanketing it. I hesitate to walk any further, for even though the lake is pristine, I fear its depths. The dirt path in front of me leads my bare feet, however, to a wooden dock. I eventually find myself standing on its edge, admiring the vast circular body of water ahead of me, both awing at its vastness and seemingly fearing its power over me. Trees, taller than I could imagine, line the outer edge of the water, the tops of them ascending into the supernova sky where night is vanishing, day advancing, and stars still shining their evanescent glow. All sounds have stopped and the lake looms before me like a sleeping predator waiting for me to disturb the peace.
Before I can alter the precious state of the water, a row boat, seemingly from no where, approaches the dock cautiously. It almost seems to ask if I trust it. So with slow steady steps I board the small vessel, my weight tipping the boat to either side before achieving balance. I watch as I sense the boat float away from the dock, feeling all trust and security float away too. Instead of worrying about what I have lost, I turn my attention to the silken glass surface of the water.
Floating, gliding, I behold, just on the mossy shore, emerging from the fog, a temple of worship. Though I cannot tell what sort of worship it is for, the immense marble pillars give me a sense of strength, like a type of respect for this everlasting structure, like its roots go deeper than the surface of the land. It looms before me and as my eyes take in the architecture, I am overcome with its strength.
Passing through the misty water, a pair of swans come into my path. Their regal necks crane to see me and beyond me and they flock together, neither one leaving the side of the other. Companionship. They seem to radiate friendship, with their pure white feathers. The two swans swim past the boat, looking back at me as they continue into the distance, the glow of the past.
Just up ahead is another tall structure jutting out into the water from the shore. A windmill, in continuous, slow, steady motion. The diamond glass windows are too dark to see through but there seems to be a sense of light from within. In all the steady softness of the ambiance, the windmill continues to circle its panes I strain my eyes to watch it progress. I envy its sense of mobility, the ability to continue moving regardless of the outside forces. Despite the vines and ivy growing over its brick construction, it still moves, ever pacing itself and cutting through the mist.
I let the boat guide me back to the dock that I only departed from a moment ago, yet then again, years ago. I reach the edge and hoist myself back onto the deck’s solid wood surface. With one last look at the vast lake behind me, I continue into the lush gardens that line the lake and I leave this place.
I then notice my eyes being opened again.