I remember the way the branches curled towards me that day, the way they swayed to and fro. It was something beautifully unexpected, a miracle of nature, a divine curiosity. And I remember standing there in wide-eyed awe, losing myself to the sheer loveliness, lost in a state of childlike wonder. Chills crept down my spine in delightful little bits, and goosebumps erupted as a plethora of tingling sensations washed over me from head to toe. But the thrill wasn’t meant to last, and after one breathless sigh I blinked, and the exquisite array vanished. That was when the heaviness began to gather at my feet, and an unforeseen darkness approached from a place I’d never been. As the winds altered their direction, everything changed. And the wondrous splendor of that unforgettable day is still nowhere to be found.
The afternoon settles into a quiet calm. But it’s here in this noiseless state, where I find myself interrupted by restless winds. Those unexpected currents stir up buried memories of regretful sighs and uneasy bitter truths. Then with trepidation coursing through my veins, a quiet declaration is made. I move in silent determination, carefully traversing those frustrating fields, where chaotic blooms begin to mushroom in my mind. At last taking control, seizing those past reflections, wrestling with the delirium of all those unspoken things. And finally after hours of agonizing lamentations, those lingering grievances begin to crumble inside an iron-gripped will. All those listless thoughts long in their coming, turning to ash, fluttering lifelessly to the ground, tasting their very last words.
There she was, umbrella in hand, floating down towards the edge of a gentle stream. At times she’d been like a whirling dervish, full of boundless energy and chaotic vigor. And yet, at the same time, there were other occasions where the current would carry her over long, tranquil airstreams.
She’d glide along over the endless fields, absorbing the grandeur of the picturesque valleys, which all looked more like patchwork quilts than anything else. Then suddenly, she’d hit an air pocket and be frolicking away again, like a frenzied feather on an urgent mission.
Once touching down, she gasped, as crisp waters from a melodious little brook jarred her breezy state of mind. Now, wide awake, she looked down at the icy waters lapping at her bare feet and wondered how she’d come to find herself in such a fantastic place.
*This brief reflection is based on a dream I had last year. It was the kind of dream that one never wants to wake from. The kind that leaves your heart soaring and your mind enraptured by a carefree spirit. I smile every time I think back on that lovely dream. I just wanted to explore further and see where all those hills and valleys would take me. To get lost in a dream is often such an awe-inspiring experience. I can only hope this year will be filled with more visions like this.
Her Writing Haven 