There was more to come to my dream, but at that particular time, I thought that was the end of When Is A Tree, Not A Tree?
The following night, my dream did not continue where it had left off, but I knew I was still in the same dream from the previous night. Hundreds of rather large black beetles, which had been heading toward me, were now receding, moving back toward the oak tree.
The Bark Beneath My Skin
Without knowing how I got there, I looked back at the beetles that had just started retreating, bringing me much-needed relief. However, with sweat running down my back, I suddenly realized I was trapped within the trees fibers with no means of escape.
As I strained against the fibers, the tree’s ancient wisdom whispered secrets in my ear. The rustling of leaves became a gentle melody, and the scent of damp earth and decaying wood filled my nostrils with a primordial aroma.
I felt the tree’s energy coursing through me, its bark growing thicker, stronger, and more resilient with each passing moment. In this strange, symbiotic bond, I discovered a newfound connection to the natural world – one that transcended the boundaries of flesh and blood.
But I still needed a miracle, The beetles that had been moving away from me were now heading in my direction. I could feel the sweat trickling down my back as they drew closer. The fear had returned, and I was certain there was no escaping my bond with the tree.
I cannot adequately convey to you, the reader, the overwhelming fear that coursed through me. Not only was one of my fears approaching me again I also felt a deep bond with the tree and in a short while, I would experience the sensation of hundreds of beetles crawling all over me.
Heart Of The Oak
Since the dream had begun the previous night, I had caught only one glimpse of what I thought was my physical body. And now, I was, trapped inside a tree with a dark mass of cockroaches closing in on me.
Once again, darkness engulfed me, but I did not awaken as I had the previous night. I sensed, rather than felt, that the beetles had reached me and halted their advance, effectively cutting off any chance of escape, even if I could free myself from the bond I seemed to have with the tree.
Resigned to my fate, the tree’s position suddenly shifted, and I found myself back on the clifftop, overlooking what I had thought was a forest. However, this time, I was no longer observing from above. After all, why would I desire to be free and shed my leaves and branches just to become human—a creature with a short lifespan, vile tempers, and many rotten to the core? I had witnessed their kind rise, and I would witness their kind removed from my mother’s lands.
A Family Tree
Here I stood, a majestic Oak Tree of great age. I am standing alone on this clifftop where many a human had leaned against my trunk and slept in the midday sun, while I watched over my family.
Yes, my Mother was preparing to reclaim her lands from these untrustworthy beings. We will halt them in their tracks before they can further destroy the planet they call Earth.
Bits and pieces of other dreams flashed in my memory—train crashes, glimpses of a fairground, dishwashers. I was relieved that it was all just a dream. I hope it was.
This type of dreaming does concern me somewhat. Initially, I had not realized that dreams could follow a coherent structure with a little imagination. When I listen to others recount their dreams, their narratives are often mixed and chaotic (Shahdaroba 2024).
Feature Image by Manfred Antranias Zimmer from Pixabay
Note:
Please remember, I take from my note book of dreams and use my imagination to connect the different pieces to make a little more sense of the dream. Those that do not make some kind of sense I forget, although some do have a habit of hanging around, why I don’t know they just do.