Saturday, August 1, 2009

The Creeper Vine

The Creeper Vine

As I lay in bed, drifting between the layers of sleep and dream, I felt something tickle my nose. At first I thought it was part of a dream - tickle, tickle; a feather light touch on the end of my nose. Raising my hand as though it were in pea soup, I rubbed a finger over the tips of my nose.

All was right with the world as my body sank deeper and deeper into sleep. Butterflies were floating above a field of wildflowers; yarrow, coneflowers, goldenrod and ironweed. Birds were chirping a delightful little melody that reminded me of Snow White when she sings “Whistle While You Work.” The sky was the clearest blue I had ever seen, sparkling sapphire with large fluffs of white clouds like albino cotton candy from the fair.

Tickle, tickle. There is was again, something creeping into my subconscious and knocking on the door to my dreams. Slowly swimming to the surface, I thought the feathery touch was now on my right cheek. But no, that couldn’t be. The butterflies were too afraid to come near me and I was standing no where near any of the wildflowers. In fact, I was standing in a circular meadow in the middle of the flowery field, knee deep in lush green grass.

Tickle, tickle. I brush my cheek with a limp hand, searching for the intruder disturbing my rest. There, that is much better; now I can return to the meadow in comfort.

Now a fawn is wobbling onto the edge of the meadow, seemingly unaware of me standing before him. Each step is tentative and from the shakiness of his long legs, he can only be a few days old. I wonder where his mother is, but my mind is distracted by the scampering of a squirrel up the walnut tree to my right. A bushy tail is all I glimpse as the squirrel races into an open cavity in the tree’s trunk.

The fawn is now statue still with his nose lifted into the air. I can almost see the smells cross his sense, and I wonder what is about to happen. But I don’t have to wait long as a full grown deer leaps into the meadow, startling the fawn into a defensive crouch. I hold my breath for a brief moment watching the scene before me. Then the fawn stands and walks to his mother before gently sucking her teet.

Tickle, tickle. I look around and see the honey bees busily working the flowers for nectar. Surely they had not come close enough to touch me? ...............

.............. to be continued ...............

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