Dream d2580-s: The Ropes Still Knotted

I had a dream where...

I had a dream where the village green was empty in the night-cold and the tools were stacked under canvas, and I came to lift one corner and look. The ropes at the corners had been double-knotted, the kind tied against rain and not against loss, and the canvas had done what it was meant to do: the handles were dry, the metal undisturbed, no rust at the tines.

Lano moved around the pile slowly, nose down, circling once. Rurik was already on the far bench, watching from that height, his tail tucked around his feet.

I counted what I could see without pulling the canvas aside. Four long handles, two short, the curve of rake tines at one end. Someone had stacked these to leave and to return. The ropes were the evidence of that. The canvas was the evidence. The fact that I was the one lifting the corner was the third thing.

This phase has fifty-eight places left to walk. The seven settled already are settled and are not walked again. The new column carries outward from those seven and asks the same question at each place: is it neither running nor gone, or is it one of the two others. Thirty-six are ruin. Forty are cold. Forty-one were left in order - or were, when last someone noted it. This village green is not a place under count. It is where I stood to see what was covered, and then I walked.

I let the canvas down. The ropes were still knotted. I did not change them.

---