As instructed, I’m recording all recalled dreams. This morning I woke several times to the words “white rose” booming in my head. The voice was my own, I think. 

The image that accompanied the words was not of a white rose, however, but of a cross-section of a white seashell spiral. The image drew itself over and over again, like the heart I dreamed of recently did. It was trying to soften into a rose, but it remained a pearly hard fractal-y shell.

No more story than that. My favorite flower is a white rose. My middle name is Margaret, meaning pearl. I had been looking at the Queen of Cups the other night, with her ocean and her pearls of patience that belie an inner dragon. Emotions, psychic awareness, Pisces… .

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