For two nights in a row I have dreamed of a specific waterfall.
It was on the side of a small mountain. It seemed to spring from the mountain itself, fell in a running cascade for a bit then sideways ran down the rocks. I was in a place like the Pacific Northwest, where it rained a lot and the trees grew tall and cone shaped. The waterfall was surrounded by dark green, on a charcoal grey rock face.
The sight of it brought me to tears and both times I saw it from the view of a wealthy woman’s house.