my dream was red. it looked like blood, but at a closer look, maple leaves that were scattered on the ground. there was a tree, maple tree. the leaves were red like burning fire. the sky was painted a orangy red colour, as if it was lighted by the flame of a strong fire.
i wish i could take a picture of that, language is so pale and feeble sometimes.
yet, isn't it interesting that from the same description, no individula paints a mental picture as another? the pale and feeble language leaves us so much room for imagination...