Editor’s note: the following is the second half of “The Dream of the Ancient Tree” by Eric Francis, originally published on Oct. 21, 2005. It is a part of the Planet Waves archives, a feature only available with a subscription to Planet Waves Astrology News. To read Part I, click here.
She said it with such a magnificently warm expression on her face, and her softness conveyed a kind of authority. Then she stood up. I could see the shape of her reflected in the mirror. I realized I was kneeling next to her at this point; for the first time I was conscious of myself in physical form. She extended her hand. I took her hand and stood up. She slid open the closet door. I tried to protest, explaining that it was a closet. She laughed.
“Let’s go,” she said again, and stepped into the closet, really, through the closet.
I thought to myself: “Oh, you’re having one of those dreams of an expanded space in your house, like an extra room or an extra part of the building you forgot about. It’s that kind of dream.”
Then I had this momentary surge of paranoia that the closet was messy, and she would see that. But there was nothing there.
She led me, firmly clasping my right hand with her left. In a few steps we were outside, no longer in Miami. The strange part was it barely seemed strange. We were in a forest like none I remember. The forest was green, it vibrated and emanated green, and the sunlight that penetrated through the leaves came down in green rays. Not a detail of the old world was anywhere to be remembered, but the contrast and the natural quality of the new world was tangible and felt delightful.
We looked at one another. She raised her eyebrows a bit and smiled, and then we walked. I cannot remember how far. She held my hand delicately, and her feet took careful steps on the forest floor, every step seeming to bring a profound revelation or experience. She barely touched the surface of the world. We seemed to be on a mission. In fact the moment I acknowledged this, the more real the mission seemed. We were approaching something. I could feel this empathically.
Then we were standing in front of a tree that Ramona was bringing me to see. She seemed to gesture at it, extending her hand and turning her body, but it was her small, brown breasts that made the gesture, and that showed me what to look at. I looked at the tree and I could not believe that a tree had such a strong presence.
It seemed human; no, like a god. I knew the tree-god was 5,112 years old.
He or she…vibrated and emanated green, the green of pure love, the green of the natural world. We stayed there long enough to feel this, to meet this being or get its blessing. This seemed like a small eternity in itself as we watched and felt.
And Ramona led me onward, into the dream-forest. There was something else she wanted to show me. I knew this was her forest, her world, or rather, a world to which she had access, and with which she was familiar.
She looked over her shoulder at me. “Come,” she said, “let’s go and meet the others.” This idea seemed to echo as wide as the world, penetrating into the deep woods and the thick green daylight. We walked on, further into the deep green woods.
PS Don’t change. Like that is ever possible!
I enjoyed this. Thanks. It is good to touch the depth of the human experience. Your writings always tell me you are deeply human. I don’t feel it is what you write about but some very strong part of you that comes through in your writing. This piece really nails that for me.