My vision has failed me, I struggle to focus on a horizon I can now see more clearly when I close my eyes.  Against a towering pine I fall back and drift away, the river humming nature’s lullaby against the roots and rocks that surround my afternoon retreat.  Free from the ever-tightening grasp of consciousness, my mind wanders aimlessly in a makeshift dream.  Images fill my dream carrousel, my dusty thoughts resemble slides upon the reel of a projector from decades past. With each flash of darkness appears a once forgotten vision; my eyes flicker and my heart rate quickens. I dream in color, short journeys that rush in and quickly fall away without revealing any purpose. The sun rises high in the sky, blanketing me with a comforting warmth. Somewhere below, a hungry trout waits patiently for his next meal. A arrant gust of wind lifts my eyelids; all is forgotten as I arrive in a moment of clarity. I cast with new-found purpose, peeling line from my reel as I struggle to find a reliable footing. My fly floats flawlessly, dancing upon the same breeze that shook my slumber only moments earlier. It softly lands upon the surface, instantly one with nature as it drifts ever-closer to my unsuspecting friend. Has my dream spawned a new reality, or have they always been one in the same? Another question begging an answer, another answer that requires no question. No thoughts, no dreams, only the river.