Story 3 – The Forest of Whispering Trees (Fiction)
When I woke, I was groggy. This was nothing new, I was often groggy upon waking. I envied my family their ability to spring out of bed within seconds of waking up. I stayed in bed, warmed by the comfort of my blankets. In an attempt to rekindle some of the sleep, I pretended I hadn’t woken up and kept my eyes shut, letting my mind wander.
I dreamt half-dreams. I always did. Splashes of colours, familiar faces, unfamiliar people, events I had not seen, events that could never come to pass.
As I dreamt, I felt a breeze on my face.
This was odd. I was sure I had closed my bedroom window before I went off to sleep – I did not like the cold night air.
Disgruntled, I got up and swung my legs of the bed – my eyes still clouded with sleep. Everything was dark, I was convinced that I’d gotten up in the middle of the night. Rubbing my eyes to clear the sleep, I reached my hand out to grasp the window in an effort to shut it. My hand touched nothing and I stumbled. I put out my hand to steady myself on the night-stand before I fell but once again my hand found nothing and I fell, straight down – onto dirt.
As I lay there, I was dazed – as one would be if they just ate dirt.
Why is there dirt in my bedroom? I thought to myself. What happened?
I forced myself to sit up and now – the sleep had vanished almost instantly after I fell – I saw the oddest thing. I was in a forest. Tall white poplar trees spread out all around me. I turned around – my bed was gone. Everything that resembled my comfortable bedroom was gone.
There was no light. Everything was… grey. I looked up and through the canopy, I saw stars.
It had been years since I had seen the night-sky like this – perhaps never had I seen it like this. The city lights drowned out the night sky every night.
But as my gaze shifted back to the forest around me, a fear crept up inside of me. I realised this wasn’t a dream – I was used to dreaming and none of my dreams were ever this vivid, ever this real. Tentatively, I reached up to touch one of the trees. Its bark was cracked and peeling. The wood looked dry and aged. The tree must have been centuries old.
The tree felt… normal. Like all the trees I’d felt before. As I pulled my arm away, however, I saw that there was a faint glow on the wood where I’d touched it. In disbelief, I reached out to touch it and withdrew my hand again. The glow was now brighter. I turned around to another tree to repeat the action – it glowed too.
The breeze that had woken me picked up and the leaves began to rustle. The fear in me was now multiplying rapidly. I began to see shapes behind me, in the dark. My rational mind knew that there was nothing there – that it was just the shadows of the leaves; that I had nothing to fear. But it was not my rational mind in control at that point. I began to run. Away, away from the shadowy figures.
I ran hard and fast – as hard and fast as I could manage. But the figures, they were always right behind me. The forest warped and changed around me as I ran. I realised I was running into the oldest part of the forest. The trees became more twisted, more ancient. And then suddenly I stopped.
I found, stretched out in front of me, a clearing. In the centre of the clearing – which was a perfect circle – there was a bonfire. It was roaring, hearty and large. I looked around. The shapes that had stalked me were gone. There was another gust of wind and the leaves rustled again. I heard them… whisper.
It was as though a million voices were speaking to me.
‘Welcome, lost one.’
Almost immediately, I felt my fear disappear. I realised I was safe here, in this forest, in this strange world.
‘It is okay,’ said the trees. ‘We have seen many like you, little one.’
‘Where am I?’ I asked, walking into the clearing.
The trees, wind and fire seemed to chuckle.
‘You are at home. In bed,’ said a deep, crackly voice – it was the bonfire.
‘This feels… so real…’ I muttered as I took seat by the fire.
‘That’s because it is,’ a raspy, rapid and simultaneously calm voice – the wind.
‘You are both here and there, little one,’ The Trees. ‘I suppose, you are in yourself. Rather, we are in you.’
‘How?’ I slowly felt my anxiety disappear as I warmed my hands on the fire.
The Trees, Wind and Fire chuckled again. ‘You are lost, little one. In life,’ said Wind.
‘You are stuck. In life and in your mind,’ said Fire.
‘You seek comfort – because it is better than the alternative,’ said Trees. ‘Or so you think,’ said all three in unison.
‘I’m comfortable now,’ I said, lying down in front of the fire.
The fire glowed stronger – warmer. The wind grew softer. The trees seemed to bow. ‘You understand now, little lost one,’ said Fire.
‘You want more. From life. From yourself,’ said Trees.
‘And life will oblige, little lost one,’ said the Wind.
‘But you must not let fear hold you back,’ said Trees. ‘You must not shut down, little one, when the figures and shadows appear. You must move forward. You must see them. You must confront them,’ they whispered.
‘That is how you ended up here, little one, in our bosom,’ said Fire. ‘Had you not moved, had you not come forward, you would never have come here.’
I furrowed my brow. ‘So what’s the metaphor?’
The forest laughed.
‘You are your own comfort, little one. You do not need your bed or your room. You do not need to hide,’ said Fire.
‘Run like the wind, attack life, lost one,’ said Wind.
‘Stand tall. Proud. You will weather every storm, little lost one,’ said Trees.
‘There is a strength in you – in every lost soul. You are all you need, little lost one. You are all you need to win, to succeed, to live free and happy. No matter what your circumstances. You are all you need. Live free, little one. Run wild. Attack life,’ said the forest in unison.
‘Live. Live to find yourself. Live to live. Don’t live to hide. Live to live.’
And then… I woke up.