On Tuesday afternoon it took over an hour to transplant one row of leaks. I was burning up with fever and barely had enough energy to push the plants far enough into the ground. I left early without making sure they were okay.
Last night I fell asleep to the sound of rain pounding the roof, and I dreamt that the leaks we planted started to turn grey. I was afraid I had ruined them and was running up and down the row trying the push them back in the ground, but they weren’t dying. Instead, they were growing too fast. The stems grew until they were taller than me, taller than the barn and the trees, and kept on growing until they weren’t leaks anymore but buildings.
I stood there and watched as the farm turned into New York City, my beloved city, that I love and miss. Normally I love when Manhattan appears in my dreams, but this time I woke up sweaty and crying. I wasn’t sure if it was from a fever or a nightmare. I think maybe it was a little of both.
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