A bridge half-swallowed by fog seems the stuff of disturbed dreams.
But it seems equally otherworldly to happen in a city upon fields of grapefruit-sized lavender flowers, or fairy dwellings–or to see Suessian scarlet roping spilling from around a tree, a misty reflected shoreline, and layered clouds bubble and bruise before folding themselves into lambs and lions while children listen to their bedtime stories.
My life may be short on revels, but even in daylight hours it can hold the dream world’s gloriously non-linear tumult, discord, and mystery.
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Author: Stephanie
In her spare time, Stephanie works full-time, and then some, as an attorney. She has published articles and delivered talks in arcane fields like forensic evidentiary issues, jury instructions, and expert scientific witness preparation. She attended law school near the the banks of the Charles River and loves that dirty water; she will always think of Boston as her home.
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Love in the Spaces 
Trees reflected in the water reminds me of Monet’s paintings — beautiful photo. Lovely blog — grrrreat poetry. Thanks for cheering my day. AM
Coincidentally, I used this same passage from Shakespeare on my blog post today. 🙂
The Tempest is irresistible when it comes to dreams, isn’t it?
Without a doubt.