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.