Signs form a language, as time passes, a mysterious force begins.
My grandma told me recently about an idyllic dream that often comes back. She explained that it was a sunny day and she saw a pretty house with river around it. Every time when she entered the house when the water was on a high level, 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.