wildflower fort

The first part I remember is that I was with several people in a woods place in the fall with a thick layer of fallen leaves and overcast sky showing through the branches; we were walking south just below an area where the ground terraced up by a distance of several feet in a ridge to our west. It was within a city, I guess, that had a Barcelona-like metro, the map of which appeared in the dream, possibly in a train or possibly just disembodied.

Later, I was outside an old fort, to its west, on a sunny morning; the ground inside the fort was about even with that outside at that spot, with the fort’s stone walls rising up almost one story, but with many breaks, some of which were spanned in a later renovation by low glazed walls. The ground ramped up or down in a few places going into the fort. The ground both inside and outside of the walls was a meadow with fairly high grass and a lovely, dense assortment of wildflowers, which complemented the masonry and glass of the fort walls quite nicely.

After that, back at some kind of house I seemed to be staying at with a group of friends, an oldish wooden house with white walls inside, smallish rooms, and plenty of daylight from the windows but with incandescent lights also on, one of my friends asked me whether I had David Bowie’s Berlin trilogy of albums as I played a more recent song from my computer that reminded me of them. I said that I didn’t and immediately wanted to acquire them, but he said he could get them from a torrent site easily, which I uneasily acquiesced to.

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