I ran ahead when I saw a little stone building. Beyond that, the land fell.
It was a robot cemetery.
Not a junkyard.
However these robots "died," they were reconstructed for their burial.
But they didn't decompose. They were their own tombstones and memorials being slowly covered by vines.
I saw rows upon rows of these robots -- they stretched all the way to the bottom of the hill and beyond, growing into the valley below. The ones at the top of the hill were there first; I could tell by the way they were almost hidden beneath the creeping plants.
All stood silently -- a quiet, strong army of a continuous generation.
I didn't think in words (do I ever?), but if I did, it would translate to this:
Robots have souls..?
They must. ... because of this.
Now that I'm writing about this, I realize that a certain dream motif has come up again: the inevitability of nature's conquest. That no matter how advanced technology gets, nature will continue to run its course. Without maintenance, all that we've achieved can be covered up and reclaimed by the earth, forgotten in time.
I never stopped to think about what that must say about me, though.
Plants usually denote growth, fertility, creativity, or even freedom. The fact that I've dreamt of vines should mean that there's something that wants to get out. It's me wanting to be creative. My thoughts and ideas wrap around and around, entangling with each other and never fully developing or defining themselves. It's a mess, my brain....
I can't say I haven't felt that way about my projects this semester. I know I have good ideas. I know I can create something amazing from them, but something is holding me back.
I wonder what it means to have dreamt of vines over robots..?
And why robots?
P.S. - Don't say I'm being held back by procrastinating (aka writing in my blog), because that's not it. :p