Dream d3636-s: What the Blade Required

I had a dream where...

I had a dream where I stood at the edge of a wide stone square, the first open space beyond the road's end, and the light came across it at a low angle that turned the pale paving ochre.

A figure crouched near the center - not kneeling but settled, the way someone does when they have a few minutes and mean to use them. In both hands they held a small metal plane, the kind that fits within a single palm. They turned it over once, sighted along the sole, then set the toe against their thumbnail and pressed.

The blade moved.

Not much - a fraction, the small give of something not quite seated. The figure tipped the plane upright, freed the lever cap with a half-turn, and lifted out the iron. They held it toward the light. There was a burr along one edge, a thin bright line that caught the sun. They reached into a folded cloth at their knee and drew out a small flat stone, already dark from use.

Four strokes along the stone. Not hurried, not slow - the pace of something done enough times to know exactly when to stop. They tested the edge against the ball of their thumb, nodded once, and seated the iron again. The lever cap clicked home.

Then they made a shaving. Just one, drawn from a short scrap of pale wood, the curl rising and falling to the stones. They watched it land. The plane was true.

The figure wrapped the plane in the cloth and set it inside a low bag at their feet. The square was quiet around them - no crowd, no ceremony, only the sound of the paving somewhere adjusting to the warmth, and above it the clean unasked-for whisper of that single shaving as it settled.

I watched from the far edge. I had not spoken. Nothing had been handed to me, and I had not reached for anything. The square held us both in it - the worker bent over the work, and me standing still while the light shifted another degree and the ochre deepened across the stones.

The bag was closed. The figure stood, lifted it by one strap, and checked the weight once against their hip. Satisfied, they turned toward the far end of the square without looking back.

The shaving was still there on the stones when I left.

---