Regrowth

I dreamed I went to visit my mother at her house, and her postage-stamp yard of her rather-urban suburban home had become a forest. It had grown from a token space into several acres, and the garage and surrounding fences of other folks' yards had fallen down, along with any furniture or discernibly human embellishments. There was a light mist hanging about, and an aging tree standing out from the pack that drooped somewhat. Various types of long grasses and clover had regrown and the bricks were no longer visible. It was an altogether stirring natural vista. My brother was concerned it was due to neglect of the yard; if this was neglect, I thought, then let it be. I wandered through the woods with my children in the cool of the evening.