I awake. Two bare feet, nothing more, except the sand.
How did I get here?
This place is strange. I feel my heart breathing. A salty taste touch my mouth. Did I wash ashore?
I can't seem to remember where I came from. The breaking of waves gently wash my awareness away, it's like the magic breath on a wounded knee.
My head is tingling. It's delightfully quiet. The constant drumming, like rain on my windshield is gone. Did I make up this place? Is it some kind of sanctuary?
At first it was just this; waves and sand, but now I see more. There is a boat behind me, resting its temples on the shore. Is it my boat?
There are no ores.
That is strange. I haven't looked inside the boat, but still I know. This boat doesn't need ores, neither does it sail with the wind. Still, it must have brought me here, and for a reason.
I believe in reason. Reason as in purpose, not so much in the reason of mind. It always seems to work in peculiar ways.
So I didn't just wash ashore. I was brought here. Or did I guide myself to this place? If so, why? Has my sub-conscious self made me escape? And why do I say escape? Is there something I've been unwilling to see?
The boat is gone. Why am I not surprised? There must be purpose here. Am I stuck till I resolve it, or can I wish the boat back?
There are footsteps in the sand leading away from the boat. Are they mine?
They look too small. I put my foot down next too one, they are like a child's. My eyes trace their path. All of a sudden I realize there is vegetation growing on the shores. A small forest only a short walk away. I head for it.
The trees are tall and the forest looks more intimidating up close. On the floor I see light reflections in water. I carefully taste a drop from a leave. Salty, like tears from heaven.
I feel drawn into the forest, like a wind brushing my senses. I start to walk. One step. Two steps. I look back. All I see is the forest. It is growing thick around me. Where did I enter?
There is little light and I struggle to see. I realize I've lost the track I was following. Was there ever really a track? I focus on the task I've set. Find the child. It appears to be the key to unlock this mystery, or so it feels.
I move on. Just relax, I tell myself. These are not trees. I breath deeply. My breast rise gently as my stomach fills. When I exhale, black smoke dissipates.
There is more light now.
A clearing appears infront of me. It's encircling a large oak. Maybe this is where the child went? As I approach I feel watched. And then there is humming. Like the sound of a mother rocking her infant.
The oak is enormous. I realize it's reaching out far, like the hands of a father to thousands of children. If I climbed to the top maybe I'd see my way out of the forest? I slowly walk around to find the best approach to ascend.
The branches are too high up. Instead I sit down to rest. Weariness descends on me as I lean back. How far have I come? The humming returns. It's coming from the tree.
I feel sad. The humming saddens me. Like a presence colored in loneliness. I exhale my sympathy. More black smoke dissipates.
Someone is standing infront of me. Did I close my eyes for a moment? Where did he come from? I realize it must be the child I was following.
He looks at me. This is no child. I'm not really afraid of him. He knows. I feel compelled to say something, but words seem to have lost all meaning.
There must be a lesson here. There must be purpose. This oak is not here by coincidence. The child that is no child is trying to teach me something.
No wonder the oak feels lonely. Encircled by a forest that seems to keep a safe distance. Or is the distance enforced by the spirit on which I now lean?
And what is this black smoke I keep exhaling?
The child is stretching out a hand. I must have lost focus for a while. I take it. It feels strong, safe somehow.
