Sweet Dreams

This little tree all leafed out as though ready to dance would be a perfect date for the wise old story tree sitting with his friend owl on my grandfather’s desk. But the little tree, all dressed for the dance, was a real, honest to goodness tree, rooted firmly in the ground on a wide green lawn. Grandfather’s story tree was very old and dusty, the pages in its story book never turning. 

What no one ever knew, was that in the midnight hours, they met in someone’s dreams as a Lord and his Lady. Owl flew ahead of their handsome carriage to a great ball in a forest. They danced the night away with their many friends that came from lawns, gardens and bookshelves; kitchen cupboards and sideboards. All transformed for the ball until just before dawn, when they disappeared back to their places.  She rooted once more on the wide green lawn, and he to my grandfather’s desk. Their friends to their homes across the world.

I only knew about these midnight trysts because one night I dreamed it. But only once. In their finery, he bowed and she curtsied and said: “Tonight, m’lord, we have chosen to dance in your dreams. Tomorrow, Sir Owl will lead us to another.”

“The world is full of magic things patiently waiting 

for our senses to grow sharper.”

~ W.B.Yeats