Trapped Part II

  As I walked toward the tree, I drank in the panoramic view of the valley crowned by a single snow peaked mountain, dotted with spruce pines. The colors of an unusually frequent and fast aurora borealis illuminated the sky, casting alternating red and green lights over the entire landscape. As I approached the barely visible path to the other side of the valley, I began to sprint across the increasingly narrow ridge, nothing more than a wispy cloaked figure, a shadow, guided by the light of the moons – and oddly enough, yes, there were two of them, both emanating a bluish white light, with one moon significantly larger than the other.

  As I weaved my way through the pass, my long, hooded cloak, too heavy to billow even in the dust laden winds of even this valley, rested heavily on my shoulders as I came to a halt at the end of the trail near the tree. From this high vantage point, I intently peered across the valley into the northern sky where the moons of this place now hung. I suddenly realized that it was very cold by this tree. Again, another death metaphor. This was not good. However, after a few quick leaps and jumps, I perched myself precariously upon the largest limb of the hanging tree. Nothing to do now but wait. Although I was cold beyond belief, I marveled again at the beauty of this dreamscape, and feeling properly moved by its beauty, I jumped down and meticulously knelt in the dust, and began to pray.

  It was a silly habit of mine, part of a larger fantasy really. For as long as I could remember, I had always been moved by the beauty of the omniverse. From deserts to mountains to streams, to the tip of my finger, I possessed an uncanny appreciation for the Creator’s work, and often noted to myself how clever He was for doing this or doing that. And so it was not surprising that I eventually began to wonder if the Creator ever walked around marveling at His handiwork as well, and if, perchance, maybe one day He and I would be in the same place, at the same time, admiring at the same thing. And in that curious moment, we would share an understanding, an accord wherein we both acknowledged one simple fact, that He is my Creator and I, like all of creation, belong to Him, and all of creation exists for a single purpose, to praise and glorify Him.

  Silly huh? I know, but to me, it was always my heart’s innermost desire. This need was always stronger than any prerogative whispered in my ear by an ersatz king. Indeed, it often seemed as if the two inclinations were in opposition to each other, but I would not understand that feeling for many years to come. The point is, I, like the Fallen and all of creation, shared the same dream of reconciliation with the Creator. I just was fortunate enough to consciously experience the desire, and recognize it as an opportunity to reach for Him. And so whenever I travelled, be it to one corner of the earth or another dreamscape, when left alone, I often wandered to a suitably isolated locale in order to pray. Hoping that in some remote place, I might just stumble upon my Creator admiring His work, so I could whisper to him that I loved and worshiped Him. I cared nothing for this world, or any other, I just wanted to be with Him.

  But obviously, that time had not come yet. And it seemed as if I had a great many things to do before I died, and so there I sat, stuck in a stupid dream, because I did something stupid, and now, I was clearly going to be taught some lesson that I did not want learn. But noooooo, the lesson could not just be imparted to me, I had to wait for it.

  And beneath the bottom limb of a hanging tree in a bizarre dreamscape, seemed as good a place as any.

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