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The Dream Final Paper Praxis I Sahna Carmona It was late December, the drifts were piling up in collusion against the rails of the porch. Little could be discerned above the sound of the wind, wrapping itself around the northeast corner of the house. Restless, it continued to bully what remained of the brittle branches of last summer’s honeysuckle, a loose shutter, and my grandmother’s wind chimes. In the midst of this late …

…was reaching me. A thirst being quenched all the way into my groin, my belly, my heart, and up into my head. I was coming alive. Opening. Blossoming forth. Bursting with energy. The smell of roses everywhere; in me, around me, from me, permeating the world. The early morning light penetrated my skin, and as I opened my budding self to the new day, I awakened to the fresh bouquet of roses on my nightstand.