The dream behind the scent
I am underwater, but I am not afraid. I breathe easily, as if in morning air. The water is cool and very clear, golden light breaking through the surface in slow, shifting rays.
Around me, light yellow flowers drift – some grazing the surface, some suspended mid-water, jewel-like. The stillness has a scent to it: clean and warm, like tea left to steep in sunlight.
On the riverbed below, a single closed flower bud – swaying gently, beckoning me. I descend and cup it gently in my hands.
It opens. Petal by petal, unhurried. From its center, a small luminous fish emerges, shimmering in light pastels. Slowly, it circles me, close enough that I feel the water shift against my skin. For a moment, it looks straight at me, as if about to say something – then turns and rises slowly toward the surface, trailing ripples of light.
I watch it go. The water around me feels warmer, softer, touched with something green and faintly sweet. The flower in my hands is fully open now.
Inspired by Yuna’s dream
