My dream

I was on a train, looking out the window. The train made a stop and I saw a bare tree that had no leaves. Then a few birds flew to the tree and sat on the branches where the leaves used to be. It was as if the birds were the leaves of the tree.

Then the train passed by a few small houses that were white, almost faded yellow. They had no color and someone told me silently, "The houses are not painted because the color comes from the windows; the world outside the window is its color."

I just found this dream to be so beautiful and philosophical.