Our homes are dead, lifeless things compared to the housing our ancestors used regularly. The storm windows and screens I find are almost all painted over and caulked in. Our artificial heating and cooling systems work in tandem, and most people don't complete the basic maintenance of changing their furnace filter (go do it if you have one).

The

I do not dream of labor. I do not dream of work.

I dream of gardens. Dream of life. I dream of
time to spend with those I love. I dream of quiet nights.

I dream a dream so simply quiet, chaotic, small, and loud.
I dream of days of sunshine and of heavy thunderclouds.

I dream of insects, mushrooms, water, soil and air and fire.

I dream the end my working days.
I pray my dreams aren't liars.

"There's been a new breakthrough on flying cars! Soon, the-"

"It won't happen."

"This time, they fixed the-"

"Doesn't matter."

"Why not?"

"Dragons."

"What?"

"Flying cars get popular, dragons appear and eat them all, and make us forget it."

"What?"

"Happens every time."

"What?"

"Yup."