The window was closed, so I thought, until a snowflake pushed itself through, riding on the breeze into my lap on a 90 degree day. Alarmingly, it boldly landed upon my bare skin, my 98.6 degree thigh to be exact, right below the hem of my shorts and immediately melted, leaving raw evidence of its arrival.
"This cannot be. Have I gone mad? Am I dreaming?" I had to know. So two fingers of my own gathered themselves into a pinch right where the water decided to reside and I knew without a doubt, dreams were on another side of the cloud that sent the anomalous snowflake to me.
I stood, dropping the book I was reading onto the floor, stepping over the lost page in a huff, anxious to investigate a potential event that should not be happening beyond the walls that tried to keep me.
Dragonflies swarm and so can snow, from the East and the West, the North, and sometimes the South without permission or invitation mercilessly, and low and behold here before me was the oncoming proof, but how would I ever get anyone else to believe me?
So I reached and I grabbed so much more than I should, snowflake after snowflake, packing snowball after snowball until a boulder of ice was in front of my feet and then without thinking, I pushed the weight around the dry dead grass of summer using every ounce of strength beneath my swollen disconcerted skin, without a destination, because it had to be done, leaving unanswered questions in its wake.
Defeated, lumbering back into the house I saw them coming out of my seeing eye; the thirsty mature dragonflies approaching from the South. And suddenly within the chaos of my life, for a fleeting moment, I understood.