And here in the secret clearing stands the even more secret homestead, visible only from a rocky outcrop I know of, and even then I have to use the full zoom lens to see it. It’s not spying, not really. I do like to come and look at it though, secretly. Hidden. I like to admire it. It’s a rare view into a private dream that shaped reality according to its own design. There’s safety here and privacy. It’s a place to lay down your burdens.
 |
| A dream within a dream. |
Off in the distance, barely visible unless you magnify the
photo greatly, a lone horse crops the grass of the dreamworld. To him, this is the only world, and he
doesn’t know about the outside world, the one occupied by you and me. He thinks the whole world consists of the sweet
secluded meadow in which he grazes. And
this is a good thing. Let’s have one
creature on Earth who rests securely and safely in her bounty. If we can have one creature who lives moment
by moment in the beauty of nature, we can know that somewhere hope still lives.
Out in the woods at a higher elevation, I sit on a
sun-warmed rock and I dream about a dream, but it’s somebody else’s dream. It’s a dream once-removed, so it has been
filtered through the sieve of two fantasies, and one of them does not belong to
me. It is a dream I am borrowing. Perhaps I am a watcher after all. A spy.
A stalker. That is what makes it
so deliciously enticing, and of course, it means that it will be forever out of
my grasp. But I can love from afar. Love can be one-sided.
