From January 8th, 2013

My wife and I are getting married. We, and all the guests, are in an old village somewhere in western Europe. The ceremony must have already taken place, because we're outside at an enormous banquet table. The reception is being held outside in a graveyard. The long, narrow table is in the center, tombstones run parallel to the table on either side, their rounded tops match the shape of the backs of the chairs. A stream runs through the center of the graveyard, sometimes running under the table, and sometimes weaving between tombstones. There are also a few puddles of standing water, brownish in color.

One of the guests, a tall woman, looks at some children drinking out of the stream, "That's fine, but they should not drink from the puddles because those go deeper into the ground--that water may have mixed with the bodies beneath us." I agree that we should only drink from the flowing stream.

I see mountains far off on the horizon perpendicular to the banquet table. My parents, my new wife, my in-laws, my siblings, and I walk across a vast, barren plain toward the mountains. At the foot of the mountain range is an enormous tree. Its roots grow along the surface of the ground and they're like large, smooth arms. A waterfall cascades down from the heights of the mountain, flows over two enormous, arm-like roots, and continues across the plain where it feeds the stream that runs through the graveyard. We all climb the massive tree.