While walking down Second Avenue a fragment of a dream passed through me.
I was sitting at an outdoor cafe at night - some warm place - maybe tropical or European - and I had truly been there. The blueberries and pink flowers bloomed along my path in the daytime in San Diego and a song played on my mind. Light speared the palms.
It was like entering Theta state and reverie, just the sense of myself, instantaneous, somewhere else - a parallel life. I have never believed in reincarnation to this point. But it may have been the future, I don't know.
My fingers smelled of rosemary - I had pinched some and kept walking. I would start a perfume store, I thought, and this pungency would underlie each scent, because people love beauty. Yet we are called to different things. Some to make perfumes, and some to dream.
It could be that in our dreams we are alive in other places, other times.