My people

After I had got up this morning I remembered a scrap of dream in which I wanted to be with my people, the dream people who bore  a distant semblance to the childhood creatures who had populated my universe . A world view  about  grown men from the puny height of a kid. From a diagonal view of an adult’s face from a child’s. My goodness, why do I get mixed up in my mind about realities and dreams?

Between the  two trees ,there prevailed a silence. I sliced through it affectionately.I even patted the tree appreciatively as it stood watching the other tree silently. Again I cut through the silence at the other end , between the other two trees, where prevailed the cry of a cricket the other day. The cricket decided to take a holiday .How do I recognize these trees without the cricket shouting the hell out of their roots?

But the trees recognized me and I could feel it in their eyes. In the way they kept silent. They are my people, the way they appeared in my dream as creatures with faces diagonally linked to my kid face. Their eye contact still operated from an adult’s eye to a kid’s eye. They are my own people from dreams.