The Thicket's Golden Haze

I dreamt I was wading through a sea of fire and gold, where vibrant orange poppies brushed against my knees and sprawling vines heavy with yellow blossoms tangled at my ankles. The air was thick with the scent of pollen and decay, a sweet perfume emanating from the dense, tangled thicket just ahead. Feathery grasses tickled my hands as I pushed through the wall of green, the leaves of the trees above me catching the sun like stained glass, each one a dark shape haloed in brilliant light. Then, the world fell away. The thicket opened onto a silent shore, where a vast, still water met a sky bleached bone-white. A single hill, a mere ghost of a shape, floated in the distant haze, and the entire world seemed to be holding its breath in the blinding, beautiful light.