Blue Roses

I woke up this morning with vivid images of blue roses.  The image was as clear as if I was awake and looking at the roses in full daylight.  In my lucid dream state, I was able to zero in on a single petal and look at its genetic makeup.  The genes show something that is startling.  In my enlightened dream-state, I knew exactly what I was looking at.

Now that I’m awake, I am no longer an enlightened being, so I can’t even tell you what it was I saw, but I remember seeing long lines of codes, like machine language, but biological in form, running in quick succession, across the very fabric of the rose petals.  It was a language that I could read and understand as easily as plain English.

A guy was lying in the room, near the roses.  He looked rather sick.  I was going to check on him when a woman appeared next to me and handed me twelve waxy brown pills, cut into squares.

“Eat them,” she said.  “They are made from the blue roses.  Immortality pills.  Take them and you will be free of diseases.”

I pointed to him.  “I think he needs them far more than I do.  He looks bad.”

She reached out and gave him a handful of the waxy square pills.  “There’s plenty of these.  Eat yours.”

The guy gulped them down gratefully and sank back onto his bed.  He did look much better after taking them.

Curious as to their effects, I threw them into my mouth.  They tasted like waxy gummy bears.

For a moment, nothing happened.  Then I woke up.

I went online and looked up blue roses.

There are no such things.

My dreams are useless sometimes.