It's about a dream I never had. A dream that I require but cannot create. How can a person force themselves to a particular dream that will save their life? I will sit in this dark empty tree stump and curl up like a translucent fetus. Morning comes, and the sky, pure yellow. The darkness of the miserable soggy night has been bitten by a pleasant crisp of the sharpened weather. The stump, still as dark as the nights dye, but overgrowth of a sightly vine with flowers of no guilt. I, as the fetus sprawl across a short and wide lotus bud that warmed me in my sleep. The extension of my limbs popped the bud open. A slight breeze wafted the lotus bud off of its pedestal of loosened tannins, and I along with it. As I slowly floated on my bed through the air, cloudy red stains were being left behind in surges. Before I knew it, the lotus was gone entirely. I still floated around as this fetus, mesmorizong anything that may have seen.

Bloom fetus is my recurring dream. I can describe it better each time.