An aging tree grew in the garden of my dreams. I used to climb it every now and again,
whenever it allowed me to.


It had a large flowery garden at the top and sometimes I would walk
along the pebblestoned path and pluck the green purple red blue orange
flowers. They smelled of an assortment of a variety of a large selection of sweet or bitter
fragrances that I never had the pleasure of actually smelling when I was awake.


I would walk off the pathway through the garden and lie down in a small patch of grass.
The lush, thick green blades were comfortably soft as I lay staring up at an unusual
swirling, coloured sky. I dreamt that I closed my eyes and slept until I again woke up
to find myself at the bottom of the aging tree still staring at a dark star filled sky.

I would always thank the tree and make my way back to the realm of misery I had grown
accustomed to.

The aging tree in the garden of my dreams died one night.

I dreamt I was still intoxicated from that same evening.I walked slowly up to the
tree wanting to again smell those fresh flowers and lie down on the soft grass.

The sun of my dreams was unusually strong that night, and I cursed at it- its gaze
was obscuring my view of the magnificent old tree.

And the day turned to dusk.

I walked up to the tree and greeted it. I began climbing it but the branches gave way
And I was thrown back to the ground. Not tonight.

I needed to climb up the tree. I needed to feel that calmness again. Again I tried
to climb, and again I was thrown to the ground.

I ranted and raved, screamed and shouted but the aging tree refused to let me up.
A rage swept over me and I felt the coldness of steel in my hand.

I gripped the axe and I swung hard. My arms felt at its weakest but still
grazed then gashed the tree, and all the while I cursed through the hollow of my
throat. The tree was mine. It was MY dream. I wanted to make it understand that It
belonged to me. I just wanted to go to the garden.

And all around me, my garden slowly turned into something horrible- the green grass was not
there anymore. the small trees and shrubs slowly lost their upright form and swayed, moaning
and still I did not care. I swung, for how long I don\'t know, and at the end, the screams
of pain and the stench of betrayal lingered. I was alone in a foreign place.

I left the garden of my dreams.

I haven\'t slept peacefully since.

In my nightmares I walk alone, and no matter how much I wish it, the
garden, the trees, the grass, the wonderful swirling sky never arrive to forgive me.