I am once again in the enchanted orchard of my dream world. I do not belong to this ethereal world, yet I am powerless to interrupt that which binds me here. I cannot awaken myself and other’s attempts thus far have proven unsuccessful.
I do not know how long I have been confined to this plane. I can remember a time when I was not stuck here, when this place was a pleasant diversion from a hectic life of school, work and children. This place is familiar to me, but only in snippets of dreams from childhood and daydreams of my adult life. Where I belong is a far different place full of people and buildings that sprout from cement streets to conquer the skies. There are automobiles there and planes defying gravity coursing through the sky. I miss the noise and energy of that place. I no longer want for quiet, I have had my fill.
The women dancing gaily, entwining themselves into each other. It is hard to tell where one sister begins and the next one ends. They are a trio of matched maidens, each a mirror image of the next. They are as fresh as the spring they celebrate, their rosy cheeks bright against the ivory of their skin. The golden red of their hair tangles down to the delicate curve of their lower back. Their dresses are simple, gauze-like, snow-white wraps barely covering their womanly curves. I watch them now, as I have since I came to the orchard, but they do not notice me. For as long as I have been here they have not seen me, or if they have seen they have not acknowledged my presence. I wonder if I appear as a ghost to them, for that is how I feel about myself.
My appearance in this orchard has gone largely unnoticed by its inhabitants. The gardener, a woman dressed in the same fauna she tends, has seen me. She knows I am here, yet has made no attempt at conversation. Once I received a simple nod of her head, and the upturned corners of her lips. Since that time there has been little in the order of recognition.
The other party who has seen me in the orchard is a young man. He spoke to me upon my arrival and since that time I have sought him out. His name is Michael and he is a hero. I have heard many stories of his adventures, some from him but many I knew as a child. He was my favorite hero growing up. His coal hair and almond eyes were etched upon my brain when I was yet a toddler. He still wears the scarlet cloak, which the king of Xandre gave to him upon the slaying of the great green dragon, draped around his muscular body. His sword still dangles, ever ready on his hip.
It seems to me that time does not pass in the orchard. The trees are always full of fruit, the weather always spring. This seems such a contradiction to my mind, but sits well in my heart. The fruit does not rot, and is sweet beyond mention. And still I long for a bearing. A simple sign to show the passing of time; sunset, sunrise, sleep, wake, anything but this unchanging calm. Even as the maidens dance and the gardener tends there is nothing to indicate a schedule to their movements. The plants grow seemingly over night. If a tree is felled another replaces it in an instant. Years are seconds, minutes are hours and I am losing my mind to the unending spring. Michael is no help; he does not understand my longing for time. Sleep when you are tired; eat when you hunger is the advice I get from him.
When last I saw him I asked for a new story, one that would explain my situation to me. “What do you mean?” Michael asked.
“Tell me why I am here. I want to know why I am stuck in this orchard, surrounded by people who will not converse with me. Why can’t I leave and how long must I stay?”
Michael sighed; he knew this question had been on my mind for a while. “I will tell you the story, but I will tell it only once and after that we must never speak on the subject again, for it will only bring pain to the peace we have found here.”
He came to me and spread his cloak on the moss-covered ground. I sat down and he joined me there. “Do you see those dancing maidens?” he began. “They are dancing to the rhythm of your heart. If one of them falters, your heart will falter; if one of them stops your heart will also. This is why they do not stop to chat. We call them Hope, Love and Faith. Each one is necessary for the rhythm to continue and without each the heart will cease.”
I watched the maidens then, in their silent dance. The constant beat of their feet upon the earth touched me. I lifted my hand to my chest and felt the beat there also. The same beat, steady and strong. I prayed they did not falter.
“The gardener, we call her Patience, is here to tend you.” Michael continued. “She is maintaining the forest as a temple. It is your body and the breeze running through it, your soul. You see there are few weeds here and that is good, but there are also few flowers and that is something that needs work. The weeds are doubts, woes and other ailments affecting the body. They begin small, but if they are not taken care of they will overtake even the tallest tree. Flowers are the “goods”, thoughts, words, deeds, anything that promotes the wellness of the body through selflessness.”
“I am here as your protector. I guard against the evil you would do to yourself and that which would be done to you. It is why I will not let you leave the orchard, until I know the danger is gone.” Michael stopped.
I looked at him, my eyes wide. How could this be true? Had I unknowingly placed myself in danger? Why do I need a protector, has something so heinous happened to me? I needed to know the answers to my questions, but Michael was not saying any more on the subject. His lips were now sealed and try as I might he would speak to me no more on the subject.
Action needed to be taken, but how? I needed to get away, back to my reality. I did not want to be trapped in the orchard any longer. I decided to make a break for the clearing just beyond the border of the trees. I did not think on the consequences of escape. As I ran the maidens sped up their dance. The faster they went the more wild they became and as I reached the last line of trees, Faith faltered. As I cleared the wood Hope tripped and with her I went down. My last vision was Love dancing with abandon, tears shining in her eyes, her sisters fallen to the ground weeping.
I had escaped, but there was nothing beyond the orchard and I was truly alone.
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