Last night I was having a grand doozy of a dream, but I barely remember any of it because I had to jump out of bed and take out the trash at the crack of dawn.
What I do remember is this:
I was standing outside of a house. It was typical upper middle class suburban American. Two floors. It was sunny and hot. Strangely enough, it didn't have a lawn, but a garden in the front yard. Someone had lovingly built boxed planters and trellises for vegetables and herbs, but they had all wilted. They hadn't been watered in some time. Nothing had.
I felt some kind of sorrow at seeing this, and I wanted to cry, but instead, I flooded the whole neighborhood. Literally, my mind caused some kind of dam break that splashed through all the dry streets and flooded the whole place. The water soaked into the parched Earth, going from hip deep to mud in seconds.
I saw a shovel, and began to dig up an aloe plant for some reason. I had the blade right under its root system, when I realized that I didn't want to dig it up. I wanted it to stay there and live. So I pulled the shovel out of the ground.