Uninvited

July 31, 2015

My dream is predominantly Green. I dream about a clearing in a forest. A place where I feel deeply in love. 
‘She’ has cleared some Trees from this place. I know this although I’ve never been here before, and have no conscious idea who ‘She’ is, but the removal of surplus trees has made this grove a perfect round circle perfectly encapsulated and therefore hidden from the outside world by tall, old, knobby thick and friendly Oak trees on one side and on the other; deep green tall Pine trees soaking up the heat from the Air, the open space in the middle bathed in the Sunlight coming from above.


You can breathe here. And be your breath. From Heart to Mouth and Beyond. Rhythmically.

 

No one can look inside here from the outside. You just have to arrive. And then BE here. The grass too is dark green, lush, and the scent is moist and fresh and makes this Forest an almost wet dream, so wonderfully empowering and inviting is this image sent from somewhere outer worldly although secretly only found on the Inside. In the altered state this dream’s enchanted scenery already has me in, I fold and sit. And know. 
I am love.

 

Even though this grove is hidden, non accessible, I am aware of a presence here. Someone has come inside. And they are here with me. I open my eyes and catch a fleeting shadow dancing quickly past me, so quick I cannot see him clearly. But he’s here. Someone let the gate open to my circle. And I could’ve sworn I locked it and threw away the key. Or maybe I brought him, secretly hidden underneath a train of thought, subconsciously invited. 
Down crooked stairs and sideways glances comes the king of second chances. Now throw him in the flame.

 

And then a voice calls me from somewhere outside the Green Circle; ‘Wake up, wake up.. Changes are coming.. ..’ I feel this deep pull in my heart; how much I miss the deep Blue color of the Ocean and understand I need to find a Shore soon; just to remember; I need Salt as much as deep Roots in the Earth.

 

I wake up with an image of him sitting in the sand painting the Waves..

 

(Poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow)

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​© 2020 by Camila Reland

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