A Strangely Resonant Dream

I was back in Scotland, on some kind of temporary visit. I was on the edge of a vast wood. It was, perhaps, late summer. The ground of the woods was covered with sand, and I think the time was early morning. I was leaving Scotland to return back to England, but I was thinking that this is my true home, and that one day I would return. I was referring to this dream-Scotland; the woods, the sand, the sky. I had to go back and get something (I can't remember what though) and this necessitated running barefoot through the edges of the wood. I remember the brightness of the sun, but also a heavy morning mist. This seemed to be experienced simultaneously. The wood had something primeval about it. The trees seemed elemental beings. In fact the whole wood did. Though I was aware of this, I was also aware that I was not frightened, more kind of respectful. There was a cottage on the edge of the woods. I had to run because the transport to take me back to England was waiting for me. When I reached this unseen and unremembered form of transport I woke up.

I lay under my covers thinking about the dream. Nothing particularly amazing actually happened in it, but it seemed to resonate with a sense of power, a sense of ancient-ness, a hyper-reality if you will.

Some dreams seem to hold, if not a meaning, then an importance, though exactly what is important about them is impossible to define. It is rather like that feeling that accompanies deja-vu, that sense of revelation, that everything is about to make some kind of sense, that you are about to see the underlying pattern of things.
It slips away though, before this secret reveals itself, leaving only an echo of mystery, a puzzling ghost that seems to follow you throughout the day.

Well, the sun is bright out there this morning. It seems that spring might, at last, be on the way.