Rocking

In my dream, I was rocking. At first, I was just rocking in the darkness. I had no idea why I was rocking, just that I was. It was a nice rocking feeling, comfortable instead of scary.

And I thought about the last time I'd felt myself rocking like that, and the next thing I knew, I was sitting in a boat on a lake, cradling my sister, reading to her, knowing I had to do something soon, or she would die. We rocked there, tied up against the dock, and I tried to shine every ounce of love into her, and I spoke of hope and healing. She was shivering, wrapped up in that blanket, even though it was 90 degrees outside and the sun was shining. She leaned her head against me and sighed, and nodded off....

And then we were young girls, rocking in a hammock under the redwoods. She was asleep against me, her mouth slightly open, her little rosebud mouth, and her hair was tousled and damp with sweat. I dropped my foot down and pushed, and we rocked a little harder. The air smelled like oaks and cedar.

Then I woke up. I'd forgotten both memories, but they are fresh in my mind now. Bittersweet gifts from my subconscious.