Sorry about that. I guess I just got a little too poetic and writer junkie-ish for a moment.
I think flowers are gourgeous. But I also think they're dainty and delicate, easily bruised if you rub a petal too hard between your thumb and index finger. Last night I had a dream. I was walking on some sort of white background that looked (and felt) like some sort of parchement paper. All around me were flowers feet high up, almost like a tree. Their petals were transcluncent and juicy-looking, dew dripping off the edges. I was a little girl in my dream, about six or seven. I thought like a little kid again, and saw my parents again as such strong guardians, protecting me from all evil, preserving my innocence once again. I was crying and laughing and smiling in this dream. And there was music, too. I woke up humming it. And the scary part? It was a real song I'd heard the other day. I just wish I could replay it all over, swimming beneath a pool of lucid, vivid flowers.