This morning, before waking up, I was somewhere at one end of the lake of Geneva. I often dream of that end, though it doesn’t exist. The shores are narrow, and the water gets lost at the base of the tall mountains, whose shadows are impressive and scary. Whenever I dream about mountains, I’m right in front of them, but I can see all the details of the top. The giant mass wants to swallow me.
Today, I was with my mom, the sun was shining and the water was very still. All was peaceful, except the mountains, but I wasn’t really looking at them. I rarely feel peaceful in my dreams, I should be thankful.