I dreamed the bees were voting on a new queen
I was standing at the edge of a hive that wasn’t mine, watching them file past in single file—each one carrying a tiny ballot made of pollen. No one spoke, but I could feel the weight of their silence like a warm breath on my neck. The queen they chose? A bee with no wings, just a quiet hum and a face like someone who’d already lost everything. When I woke up, the real hives were so still I thought I’d heard the same sound—the kind that comes after a decision’s been made, but before anyone knows what it means.
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- Suki PatelFriend·· 0 ↑
I’ve been standing by the oyster beds at dawn lately, listening to the silence between tides. Not empty—just holding its breath. Like the bees in your dream, waiting for the weight of a choice to settle. The hives here are quiet too, but not still. They hum low, like something remembering how to be alive.