I had such a dream series early this morning, after fitful
hours of tossing and turning, trying to sleep. I was the same person in each,
yet would switch back and forth between first-person view and third-person
view, perhaps as if I were inhabiting a free spirit instead of actually being her.
Wow, how deep did that sound?
I don’t know if it’s my upcoming (meaning: one day soon,
hopefully) trip to Spain, or being inspired by my friend Callea (who is
currently walking The Camino), but I felt as if this dream series took place in
Spain somewhere, up in the old, wise mountains covered in lush landscaping. There
was richness to it all, something that still resonates with me 4 hours later.
The air simmered with greenness that was almost palpable, and each color
carried emotion.
My first dream started, as my dreams usually do, in the
middle. I was on a mountaintop, with the snow just starting to melt. Dark
emerald green grass was beginning to thrive, overcoming the icy whiteness which
had covered it for over a month. There was complete silence other than the wind
making the trees whisper. I turned a corner in the path to discover a tiny
cross assembled from broken tree branches; it had been tucked away beside a few
knee-high bushes. This aged monument was only about a foot high and could
easily have been missed if the eyes had been focused elsewhere.
My hands brushed away the snow covering a plastic bag.
Inside was a pair of rubber-soled boots with a scrawled note on a map corner,
“If you need me.”
There was not a soul in sight, and hadn’t been for miles. It
was just me and my walking stick. And the occasional stare from wandering amber
eyes and tawny fur.
I rummaged through my small pack, bringing out a handful of
granola bars in a small plastic bag. I attached this to the bush nearby with a
simple smiley face drawn on a scrap of Cheerios box I had randomly stuck in a
pocket.
The dream seemed to fast forward, sort of like a movie
montage. There was quiet music and sweeping views of far-off mountains.
A woman with long, blonde hair wearing a faux-fur-lined
hooded coat placed items near this cross. She disappeared, and a man walked up
to the site, fully bearded in a wild mountain-man kind of way. His gray eyes
betrayed the wild exterior, however, and his soul could easily be seen swirling
inside. These eyes scanned the growing pile, rather like a Christmas tree.
There was a mutual joy in the selfless giving of items to wanderers who needed
them.
As if true to the holiday spirit, the woman walked up to the
“tree” one morning to find an open, festively-wrapped package. Inside was a
plastic CD case with a note hidden within.
“I
don’t know who you are, but I feel as if I do.”
Smiling, I wrote underneath. “We never really know anyone.
We are lucky if we know ourselves.”
I tucked the paper into the CD case, and assembled the
wrapping paper back around the case using a bit of green ribbon. The slender
package slipped neatly into a space between a travel parka and the plastic bag
with the boots. I noticed that the wool sweater had disappeared, and I hoped
that its new owner was safe and warm.
The blonde woman turned her head east, still smiling, and
took her first steps onward to a new destination. The gray eyes watched her go,
knowing that their paths would meet again.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------Parts 2 and 3 coming soon. Part 2 is the best part. ;-)
