On The Edge Of A Dream That You've Had
As far as the eye can see, there is a vast, endless wheat field. The golden stalks ripple in a gentle breeze as if a burnished sea, carrying carrying with it the scent of saltwater and sand. In the far distance - just beyond the trees over yonder - there is the sound of crashing waves just under that of crying gulls.
A dirt path crosses the center of the field, passing a tree. The tree itself is gnarled, warped, and looks like something that threatens to fall over at even the slightest of breezes. Yet, it bares the sweetest-smelling peaches that could ever be imagined...
... or dreamed. This is a dream, can't you tell...?...
... or maybe it isn't...
... a wooden panel strung between two pieces of rope dangle from one of the tree's branches; a crude swing. It sways back and forth in the breeze.
To the North, there is the sound of crashing waves. To the South, a mountain range.
Where will you go?
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