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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required In the mid 80's, I took a job as a receptionist for a wholesale floral company. Encased in a glass claustrophobic space, I answered their busy phone lines as I gazed at the warehouse walls of greenery and the production staff scrambling to fill their daily delivery orders to florists and offices. The days began early. We punched in at 6:00 am. I arrived in a mind fog, downing my caffeine until my body's sluggishness wore off. It was a mindless job and I stayed a mere six weeks at most but during that short window of time there, I had two very prophetic dreams involving co-workers. The first and less memorable involved one of our delivery drivers. I dreamt that the police had caught him drinking while driving and he was subsequently terminated. About a week later, this dream came to fruition. The second and must more poignant dream involved Jerry, a young flower salesman in his late twenties. I dreamt that Jerry had fallen thru a sliding glass door. He was holding the hand of a small child, perhaps two or three years old. It was very graphic as I saw the shards of broken glass scatter as they hit the floor. With in a few days, Jerry ended up in intensive care after a car accident with his truck. I was extremely rattled by the dream and also concerned about his welfare, although I barely knew him personally. I approached Heather, a secretary there and shared my dream with her. Heater told me that Jerry had been previously married and that he and his former wife had a child that passed at a very young age. I might be mildly intuitive but I have never had such poignant dreams since that job. Is it plausible that I was being influenced by my green house environment there? Could it be possible that plants have always been open to communicating with us but that we humans remain mostly inattentive to their messages?
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