Dromen

... As I lay there, I could feel that the earth beneath me seemed to pulsate with life, as if whispering stories of growth and renewal. I closed my eyes and let the scent of the earth permeate my senses, the aroma of rich soil and grass filling the air. In that moment, I felt a profound connection to the land, as if I were an integral part of its tapestry. I carried out this feeling through that entire day - especially when I later lay in my own bed.

... and had a dream that the cows in the fields became construction cranes. They sadly found themselves trapped within the mechanical bodies of these colossal cranes. No longer able to roam freely, they stood frozen in their towering forms. All of them were spread around different parts of the Land of Chabot. They used to be able to smell the scent of fresh grass and edible plants. But now they were fixed in place, only able to ring their cowbells, which surprisingly enough they still had. Since this was the only way that they could express themselves, they started to use the bells excessively. And the air in the Land of Chabot resonated with the cacophony of their musical rebellion. Their necks were elongated significantly, and by surprise they could finally see over the soil dunes and see all of their friends being littered around the land, sadly not in reach, all disconnected. Until one of the “cow cranes” discovered a new bodily tool, by swinging the hook, they could reach out to their distant friends and finally establish connections again.

... It is actually the only way to get to the land. Once you close your eyes for good and your mind starts to gently drift - that is when the land starts to appear. The forest grows thicker and goes further away. The sun warms my skin and the wind cools it off. The sky pulses with clouds full of colours - evermoving yet gentle. Suddenly, a bell starts to toll and a small boat appears on the slow-moving water of the canal. On the other side hidden among the trees I see thin poles that glisten when the light hits them. The more I look the more I can notice. Headstones of people lost in an old war. Remnants of construction of a city bygone. Artefacts of a civilization lost. When I manage to focus my ears, I can notice that a strange sound comes from inside them. A hollow sound, as if a steel ball is in perpetual, symmetrical motion trapped inside. I would like to cross to the other side and examine, but the boat has already sailed away and disappeared. When I open my eyes, still laying on the grass, I realize the Land of Chabot can only be seen from afar.

… The power of the Sun, beaming down on my face. I could feel the immense heat from that faraway star radiating so intensely on my face. It might have to do with the fact that I was sunburnt the day before and had been feeling the effects of that radiation already for the past few hours, but lying down on the grass and feeling it directly made me feel some kind of close connection to the sun. Not only directly, from above, but also the grass that supported me, the tiny insects I felt itching subtly on my arm, all life’s energy originating from that star. Then I thought about how this experience and these thoughts were not connected to Chabot at all.

… and for the first time in a while, I thought of nothing. I dreamed of nothing. My thoughts, my head, and my mind got quiet for some minutes after days and months of overthinking and analysing events, people, and past situations. It was nice. The world stopped spinning for a while. Time has no meaning here. No rush, confusion, or noise to distract you from enjoying this moment. Just the sound of the wind and some bells is enough to keep you half awake to enjoy this moment.

… and started to dream about nothing really. Black blind break from perceiving through your mind and eyes. A not so silent movement of just letting things be. Feeling your body, warmth of the sun, smooth touch of the wind… Only the sound of work, cyclists and pedestrians around reminded me that I am a human being and not just part of this grass field I am lying on. Moment of ease, break from stimulation.

... and I started dreaming about my time in the Pyrenees and how I couldn’t sleep then because of the cowbells, about the time I almost fainted last summer, about camping on the endless dirt mounds with just a sleeping bag and a colourful parasol. About my aunt who would be jealous of me. Of having a beer later. Of when I would feel a beetle land on my nose and of thinking I’m not really tired.

... and I started to dream about the opposite of what I was hearing around me. I heard cowbells in the background, but saw roaring planes flying over low towards Rotterdam. I hear the horn of a ship on the Rotte, but I see exhausted refugees stumbling in long rows over the dike. What I hear around me in the land of Chabot is so nice, but the works of Chabot that I have seen in the museum show so much horror, but it is so nice here.

... I heard the sound of feet on the grass, someone was approaching, and I was still adjusting to the blurred vision caused by the change in light when I first opened my eyes. All I could see was yellow and green grass, a cloudless blue sky on the horizon, and a figure in the distance that was becoming clearer. I saw him, pipe in hand, Hendrik Chabot, with his easel and painting equipment, walking past me as if I were not there. My eyes followed him from the side of the Rotte river to the side of the polder. The sky changed dramatically, producing intense colours, dark blue, dark green, red-orange, yellow-orange, black, and clouds gathered. Wait, were those clouds? They were rough and hideous, moving strongly with the changing colours of the sky. Why did they also start to change colours violently? The sky is changing so rapidly that it wants to swallow this side of the land. No, the polder also changed. When did the haystack appear here? Isn't it spring now? And cattle, when did they return to this land? Wait, wait, when did I stand up? I had a charcoal pencil in my hand and was trying to draw something on the canvas. As I drew the first lines, the landscape around me was fading rapidly, leaving only barely discernible outlines. My eyes were flooded with light, and I couldn't help but close them, leaving only the sound of the wind blowing the grass in my ears. When I eventually dared to reopen my eyes, I was met with the familiar blur of yellow and green melding within the grass. The cloudless blue sky persisted on the distant horizon. It was as if the tumultuous events had been mere fragments of my imagination, slipping away like the fragments of a dream.