once pristine . texts . dreams

I am in a small town on the coast of southern France characterized by exclusivity and well to do people. The small streets of cobblestone are charming, and there is a river with a beautiful blue green hue running through the town. I find myself in a gathering of beautiful but intellectually shallow people in a charming house with patterned wallpaper and similarly patterned upholstered furniture. In fact everything is patterned, tastefully for each piece, but as a whole it is a clashing decorative overflow of rosettes and fleur de lis, almost disorienting. The people are gone, it is me alone in the house. I begin to see into the patterns, as they engulf my awareness I believe there is a hidden message, something very important, but elusive. Though it eludes me it is comforting to me. I leave the house and walk along the cobblestone streets until I reach the river. There are people along the edges of the river, families and couples swimming and playing. The center of the river is clear, deep and flowing with a strong current. The shallow edges of the river are crowded, but nobody ventures too far toward the center for fear of being carried away.