The dream behind the scent
I am weightless, in a space with no walls, sky, or ground – just endless white in every direction, faintly iridescent, like the inside of an oyster. Clean, sweet air, almost fruity. I don't know where I am. It doesn't matter.
Around me: dozens of floating paintings, an otherworldly gallery. I glide past, taking in landscapes, skies, oceans. Some are abstract, yet I instinctively understand them. Some I barely notice, others draw me in.
One painting stops me. A sunny meadow, rich roses and sweet jasmine, petals scattered across grass. I’ve never seen this place, yet it’s strangely familiar. I drift closer. The colours are too alive for paint. The flowers are actually moving.
I’m so close I should be touching the gilt frame – instead, I float through it. And then: warm grass under my bare feet. I’m at the edge of the meadow, looking into a garden in full bloom. Crisp leaves, fresh petals, the lazy hum of bees – and that rich, heady scent of nature coming alive.
Inspired by Natalie’s dream
