Home Is a Place You Leave
a dreamscape call to adventure
Fragile shards of light pierce the window by the door. Behind you, the soft grumble and chuckle of a fire in the hearth explains the faint smell of campfire smoke that lives in your clothes. A wreath of pine and bramble on the door speaks for the bright scent of sap that keeps surprising you. There are other scents, each a promise: the tickle of cinnamon on the air tells you that a warm drink is waiting, while something savory, with a whisper of peppercorn and root vegetables is a reminder that a meal is also close at hand.
But the sunlight through the window is starting to melt a lace of frost that clings to the glass. The emerald pines against the pink and orange dawn shiver in the breath of a Winter breeze, shaking loose a galaxy of icy crystals free to fall. It will be cold out, but your coat is thick. The air will alchemize each breath into a cloud. But the sun is rising. And a path of rich black dirt and pine needles shows clear between the blankets of snow that hug your cabin and the trunks of each tall tree.
It's time to go. The sun is rising - the path is gentle - and the cabin, brimming with the chatter of a fire, warm and stocked with nourishment, will patiently wait to welcome you back, along with whatever wonders you’ve gathered.
Where Dreamscapes Come From
For most of my life, I’ve struggled to fall asleep at night. I’d say that on average it takes me nearly an hour to conk out. I’m not an insomniac by any stretch, but I’m also not as blessed as my partner who is out within single-digit minutes of closing his eyes.