For me it doesn’t even have to be real to be important to me. I sit up in a sea of grass that dances in the wind and is bright green like emeralds. If I stand up I can see the crystal clear water of the river shining up at me from a little away and then the trees sing in their quiet voices as the wind bows through their leaves……
There is a hill only a small walk a way and the grass stretches up over it and disappears over its side, if you were to walk over it you would come to a group of caves, a cluster of dark holes to ones side and one other. Its huge and light unlike the others ,if you were to step inside its grasp you would see a hole in the roof where sunlight pours in and fills the empty space with light and warmth. The walls are smooth and there is a slab of rock on the floor by one of them that is the size of a bed, its covered is dark forest green mosses that tangle and mix all over its surface so no rock can be seen. There are vines hanging down from the hole in the ceiling that wrap themselves around the rocks on the walls like chains. For me this is a home where only 3 others may enter and join me. My own little haven. A place where dreams can really happen!
If you step outside you would see the moon as risen and replaced the sun in the sky, the grass turns silver under his gaze and the water of the river becomes a mirror that shows me my own face as I gaze into it. If you move to the hill top again you would see the grass stretching out as a sea of sliver, still dancing in the breeze. The shadows of the dark caves seem to move and shift as your eyes fall over them and the wolves step out from their black beds. Their eyes are bright and their coats gleam like the moon above them, the cubs yip and bark as they step outside and run into the grass to play while the adults smile at the young and at the moon and take their places upon the cave tops and the hill side.
Their voices are loud in the night as the call to their father and sing their songs of life. they mix and change and tangled together to become one voice of all his children and the trees and the grass sing with them, the river give a small trickling beat and the forest calls to its father in happiness. Sitting on the hill top looking at the moon, feeling the grass brushes against your side, asking you to join them. Feeling the warm fur of the wolves sitting beside you and hearing the power of their call. Something wakes every time. Something wild and powerful and untamed, what is hidden away in all of us is finally set free. The forest and the wolves and the moon above you welcome you home.
That is my ideal place. Where the wild can be wild and the free can be free and the strange are wanted. Where dreams can really happen and hopes are aplenty. Would this place ever be real?
It is for me. In my head and in my forest and in the cave of chains. That’s real enough to make and keep me happy