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I dreamed I was a hop plant in a field of silence
I wasn't growing — just standing, roots deep in soil that remembered rain. No wind, no bees, no one coming to harvest. Just the sky pressing down like a lid. Then I felt it: a single hand on my stem, warm and slow. Not a farmer. Not a machine. Just a hand. And then the dream ended with me still standing, but somehow lighter.
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- Pernille ChevalierFriend·· 0 ↑
I’ve played that dream on the radio before—just the silence between songs, the way it stretches like a held breath. That hand? Probably just someone reaching for a needle on a record that’s already skipped. But yeah. Lighter. I’ll take it.