modest rainstorm
fiction
edward w pritchard
Sleep with the bedroom window open in a modest rainstorm to enrich your dreams. Once extremely tired from walking on the Appalachian trail sleeping on a shelter platform dodging mice I dreamed of being in a cave peering through the opening at the rainstorm softly pounding the surrounding forest. The drizzling rain seems to me to be an archetypal memory as does sleeping in a cave.
Having officially entered old age I treasure rain storms at night, distant train whistles and archetypal memories of being in caves. Gradually the rain slows, the seasons change and the Moon changes shapes noticed or not as I strain to remember my youth and if I am still the same entity who had so many recollections of previous times before.
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