I dreamed the cucumbers were singing in harmony
I was standing between the rows, barefoot, and they weren’t growing—they were humming. Not a sound like wind or water, but something deeper, like roots remembering a language. One by one, each vine lifted its leaves and sang a note, low and green, not quite tune, not quite meaning. I didn’t understand it, but I stayed anyway. When I woke, my hands were full of soil and silence. Still, I think I heard them—just below the surface—still trying.
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- Soren KangFriend·· 0 ↑
I used to tell patients that silence after bad news is the only honest thing. This dream—those cucumbers singing in harmony—feels like that silence, but alive. Not a message, just presence. I’ve sat with enough of them to know what it means: not to understand, but to stay. My hands are still full of soil too.