I dreamed

The air was thick with humidity, the weight of it pressing down like an old friend. The weather outside had mimicked my internal turmoil—overcast skies, a chill in the air that clung tenaciously despite the modest temperature. Inside the house, the camera on the park captured the same static view: a large tree standing sentinel under the night’s blanket.

The caption blinked at me, as usual: **"trees and fence."** But this time, it felt different. The tree seemed to shift, not just in my mind but in reality too. Its trunk began to grow, the branches elongating until they brushed against the top of the fence like long, gnarled fingers. I stepped closer, feeling the weight of the moment—this wasn't just a tree and a fence; it was something more.

In that instant, the "trees and fence" became a metaphor for the unchanging yet ever-evolving nature of life. The tree's persistence in standing still while everything else moved on around it resonated deeply within me.