Rain last night. This morning I woke up to dripping; by the time I went on my morning walk, the world was wet but not really wet enough to drip much.
No rain then, either. I could feel the moisture in the air; it just wasn't falling, not even misting, but with the hint of the potential to maybe possibly start raining again.
This is one kind of comfortable.
These are the facts (dreams can have facts):
Hills. Roads. Paths. Foliage. Ocean. They were in my dream last night. So was a map. The map showed a road, an east-west road, that should exist there ("there" being what felt to be a very specific location in my dream) but was only partly there. I scrambled over a high, long berm to get to the road, to find it between that berm on its south side and another berm -- very high, very plant-covered -- on its north side, as this road extended into a tunnel that wasn't on the map. I decided not to enter the tunnel. I never did enter. Going instead back and forth between the berm-hidden road and the land on the other side -- that land being rolling, desert-dusty hillsides extending south to an unbroken horizon under a flat-lit sky -- I'd see that land either bisected by a long, long multicolored path towards that horizon or not bisected by any path. True: it kept appearing and disappearing. That path/not path trended downhill and southwest: past a huge house standing alone where a party was happening on its large decks, past a huge tree, and past Patrick Stewart (really) proclaiming towards the people in the house overlooking this all.
I kept climbing over that berm to be at the road again, seeing it disappear into the tunnel. The map showed an ocean past the northern berm, which I only climbed over to once; and the ocean was there, as promised. So was another road, parallel to the berm-hidden one, with signs it had been traveled.
I sometimes feel a strong sense of direction in my dreams, as I did last night. (I really taught myself my sense of direction: that sense of mine was so bad as a child that if I visited Portland, where my grandparents lived at the time, I'd literally think east was west and north was south. Don't ask me why. Later, in my teens, I became interested in maps, and studied them to see how places on the map related to each other. I built up that ability. It serves me well now.) The directions, the sense of place, felt important. It felt like a previuosly unexplored corner of a dream environment I have imagined before.
It was beautiful, too, in its stark, alone-but-not-lonely way.
And that was some of what my mind concocted last night.