I am in a barren and dry place. A city. But there’s no trees and there’s no grass or green. It’s all brown and tan and dry and dusty.

I see a tree in the distance with a tall trunk and lush leaves. It grows out of the sidewalk.

I run towards it, eager to get closer. When I get to the tree, I wrap my arms around it in joy…. only to discover that it’s a fake tree. My disgust and disappointment is a heavy weight on my soul as I pout up at the trunk.

Then, the scenery changes, and I am Keeper of the Green size (about an inch or two tall), and I am sitting in the soil of a potted plant on the windowsill in an old woman’s kitchen. I feel I am glowing in contentment and happiness.

Then I wake up.