Now this morning, I told my Lord of my most recent dream. And I said to him, “My dear Lord, last night as you slept, I dreamt. And in this dream, I watched the grasses of the garden grow wild through my neglect, and spread across the ruins of the Palace, until the thorns grew up its walls, and over its roofs, and to the tops of its spires, and formed around it an impenetrable shell. And the roses bloomed like constellations, and the empty corridors were filled with nesting birds, and the abandoned rooms became fox’s dens, and the desolate halls had now carpets of grass, and rabbits danced upon them like courtiers at a ball, and more life there was here than ever before, and vitality, and purpose, and worth. Yet still I felt a deep enduring sadness, for to me it would always be a tomb.”