Keep Going

I had this dream once. It started out so odd, well, it became odd early on. But it began as a familiar reoccurring nightmare. Running through a dark forest, branches catching at my clothes, vines with thorns scratching at my face and all other exposed flesh. Trying to follow an obscure path that may not exist in a few places.

Yet, unlike before I got tired of running. There was nothing chasing me, and if I wasn’t running and stumbling along, I wouldn’t get so scratched up. So, I slowed to a walk. The path became easier to see as I pushed on, avoiding the thorns and branches.

Even as things got easier, I found I didn’t know where I was going, or why I was bothering to walk this path. Why did it have to be so dark and dangerous? What was the point? I was just about to sit on a fallen log, ready to give up whatever endeavor I was undergoing. But something up ahead caught my eye.

It looked like faint sunlight, too far away for much to filter through. The possibility of getting out of the darkness spurred me forward. For a while it felt like a hallway that never ends. It was like that for so long I briefly contemplated sitting down again. But then the trees began to thin.

I no longer had to duck under or move branches out of the way. The thorns and brambles couldn’t reach me anymore and the path widened. I began to be able to see clearly with color coming to the trees and bushes. And then there were no more trees. The forest was replaced with grass covering a small clearing. That clearing met a large lake with what looked like a grass covered, steep hill in the middle.

Now this is when it really got weird, because I more or less had no say in my actions. My body moved without my consent, like a compulsion came over me. Even my thoughts seemed muted or on low volume, but I felt no fear, just curiosity.

I walked towards the edge of the lake but stopped several feet from it and looked down. There, nestled in a patch of soft grass, was a fully ripened pear. Picking it up I didn’t hesitate to take a big bite.

The juice ran down my hands, arms, and chin as I took bite after bite, even lapping at the juices that fell. It tasted like what I imagine the ambrosia of the gods was like. What was odd is that I don’t like pears, it’s the only fruit I won’t eat. And I’m terrified of deep water, but that didn’t stop me from walking directly into the lake.

The water crept up my legs, then my stomach, chest, and shoulders. I didn’t even take a deep breath before it covered my head. There wasn’t any swimming involved, I merely walked along the bottom. My chest didn’t tighten, I felt no panic at the lack of oxygen.

I just kept moving forward through the muddy water, not bothered by the lack of visibility. Until finally, the ground started to angle upward. I walked out of the water just as calm as I had been walking into it.

Ahead of me was the hill I had seen from the shore. But being much closer I noticed what looked like a tree top kissing the sky. Despite the lack of choice, I was glad when I began to hike up to the top. I wasn’t even tired when I arrived, and I noticed my clothes were completely dry.

The tree I had caught a glimpse of at the bottom sat in the very center of the hill. And as I got closer, I was able to identify it. It was a giant pear tree. Easily fifty times the size of a standard fully mature one. The lowest branches hung well out of my reach.

Multiple pears littered the ground around me, but there was no more compulsion dictating my actions. The tree trunk was as wide as at least three or four of me standing side by side. But what I found interesting were the markings carved into the wood.

“Its about time you got here,” an oddly familiar voice spoke. Looking around I didn’t see anyone, so I made my way around the tree. She was crouched down carving something into the tree trunk.

Or I should say I was carving something into the tree trunk. She was me, but different in so many ways, made obvious to me as she stood to our full height. I was already done growing, but she somehow seemed taller than me. She was calm and collected with an air of confidence and sophistication.

“Let’s clear this up quickly,” she said, brushing her hands off. “I’m an older version of you that you have the potential to become,” she spoke quickly in a matter-of-fact tone. “I’m not allowed to tell you how much older. And I wouldn’t if I could, because frankly, we don’t have time for all of the questions it would bring.” She paused here so I took my opportunity.

“Where are we?” I asked. She smiled big and spread her arms wide, “The finish line.” After I clearly didn’t understand, she explained though her smile never faltered. “This is where everyone is working so hard to reach. Whether they’re chasing financial prosperity or peace of mind.

This is where dreams are reached. The pear tree symbolizes prosperity, good health, happiness, and wisdom. In some cultures, it also means fertility, so watch out for that, but it’s a symbol of comfort.

This pear tree in particular is one that I think can only be reached in the dreamscape. And it seems to transcend time,” she ran her fingers over various carvings, drawing my attention to them. There were no dates, but they were all names or symbols that looked like personal seals.

“When I had this dream,” she continued, “the me that was older put our mark here,” she pointed to a lower spot than the one she had carved. “And the her that she dreamt had put theirs here.” She pointed again in a different spot.

I saw two more without her direction, and I wondered how many times and how many Me’s had dreamt this. “Right now, that isn’t important,” she faced me fully and placed both hands on my shoulders. “The sun is about to rise, and there are things I need to tell you if you’re going to make it to this side of the dream.

First, its going to be hard. Always harder than you expect. Sometimes you’re going to want to give up. Other times you’ll forget and lost sight of what you are fighting for. But no matter how dark the path gets, trust that you are where you need to be, when you need to be there. You can’t skip over the lessons. You will have no choice but to accept them to get where you want to be.

And second, don’t stop. Keep moving forward. If you must take a break, be wary of mud slides and becoming complacent. Your comfort zone is not always your friend,” her tense expression relaxed, replaced with a soft smile.

“You’ll have your own young you to advise. I’ve no doubt of that, so take what I’ve said to heart.” In the span of a breath the hill changed. The moon replaced the sun, and as I looked around the pressure from her hands disappeared. She was gone.

As I watched the stars grew brighter and began to swirl. Dizziness drove me to closing my eyes. But when I opened them again, I was in my bed, staring at my ceiling.

That dream followed me for a long time. I couldn’t help but draw comfort form what was the most inconsequential detail. I aged really well.