The dove, the stream, and the laundry Line

"I was standing in a wide, open field, late in the day, with grass up to my knees that kept moving even though I couldn't feel any wind. I think I'd been walking for a while but I couldn't tell you where from. My shoes were gone, which didn't bother me at all. A white dove was sitting on top of an old wooden fence post, small against all that sky. It watched me come closer and didn't leave. I stopped a few steps away, and for some reason I started telling it about my week, nothing important, just that I'd been tired and forgot to water the plants. Then a jump, and I was sitting in the grass with the dove next to me, and a stream had appeared that I hadn't noticed before, running slow and clear. A woman I half knew, maybe an old neighbor, was hanging laundry on a line stretched between two trees, humming. The sheets were so white they almost glowed. I didn't have anywhere to be. I remember feeling that clearly, like a door quietly closing behind me."