Signs form a language, as time passes, a mysterious force begins. My grandma told me a couple of weeks ago about an idyllic dream that often comes back. She explains that it was a sunny day and she saw a pretty house with river around the house. Every time when she entered the house when the water was on a high level ‘hoogwater’, somewhere in the next days something negative happens.
Dreams tell the myths that are forgotten by the day. What happens at night can be gone the next morning. A horizon became a drive to move forward but when I was there, it was already gone. Thinking about what I saw was only a moment of light, like the explosion of a star, that made me searching for meaning in the darkness.