I Want to Tell You a Story

You slumber... at the edge of awareness, not quite awake... but caught in a twilight. You hear sounds of the forest that surround you. It’s a cacophony of insects, and nightly things. Creatures of the forest.
Just in your nightwear, you start to rouse... and that’s when it truly hits home: this is no dream. You are mysteriously in a much different place, lying on your back and staring up at the forest trees.


You have no recollection of how you got here, but instinctively... you know exactly where you are. You’re miles away from home... just off an old path that was once an Indian trail, many lifetimes ago. Your father told you that was why the railways were built close to it; the Indians already knew the best paths. It’s weird that even though the absurdity exists, of how this could possibly happen... you feel no fear. The night and it’s companions do not startle you.


You begin your trek homeward, in your bare feet. The needles of pine are soft on the earthen floor... and the scent of the outdoors is actually quite peaceful ... relaxing. You make your way across the fields, and thru the brooks... all the while in wonder at why you can’t remember walking out here, or why you would do so. The night is breaking way to the pre-dawn time... just enough light to make your way.

You enter your yard, and walk up the back stairs. The door is always open, living out in the rural area you do... you don’t want to wake up your parents, and upset them. You walk thru the kitchen, and notice the little things... salt & pepper shakers just so; the fruit bowl... the sugar canister. The way the light hums and gives its fluorescent light from the under cabinet, used as a night light. You walk carefully thru the house, and back to your bed. You pull up the covers, and close your eyes...

That’s the moment the dream that might not be a dream wakes you. It was so very vivid! It’s enough to make you climb out of bed early, and see if that kitchen from your “dream” looked the same in reality... it is exactly the same!

You look down at the grass stains on your feet...




** So, this is a true story, of a ‘dream’ I had, when I was a young child living at home **

I never forgot it, and to this day I do not know if I sleep-walked out to that forest...