Growth

The dream began with the low rumble of thunder as my eyes refocused to the soft glow of my darkened room. I lay awake counting the seconds between the initial wave of low quakes from above and the next. They say each second is a mile and the time between each sound tells you how far away it is from you. I counted 20 seconds. 20 miles away if this particular old wives tale is correct. The thunder grew louder the second time as if demanding my attention and calling me from my slumber. I lay motionless and stared out through the shade watching the collage of trees at the yards edge sway and pulse with the wind. Slow motion at first and then violently for moments at a time giving into the gusts. The forest made a slow and mournful hiss as the storm winds invaded each branch and limb, stirring the leaves from their hidden corners of the vast woods. I watched the tips of each tall tree bounce back and forth, dancing with each other, pushing to and fro in a casual and loose stretch as if they might start walking away to find a quieter corner in which to settle.

Soft raindrops melted my view of clarity as the light grey darkened soaking the green trees and grass with a clear slick coating of water, tweaking their natural color to a sharp black and white as the charcoal clouds pushed restlessly overhead. Each drop rang in my ears and echoed through empty rooms in my house, now dimly lit by the high contrast white tint from the storm outside. It seemed safe and warm here in this bed. In this house. A streak of white light electrified the air and brought me to my feet. Now standing by the opposite window facing the field just past my front yard, lined on each side with rows of trees as well as the vast green forest facing me directly across the narrow rural dirt road that cut through the dense thicket to the small lot I call home.

The rain pelted the glass now and at times sounded like it was being thrown by the handfuls. I placed my palm flat on the cold pane of glass and witnessed the outline of my fingers spread like frost across the window and onto the wall, cracking as it fled outward and down the hall. The thunder shook the house, I saw the wheat stalks in the field, previously moving aimlessly in mock motion like the sea at high tide suddenly fall flat to the ground with the powerful gust directly towards my tiny widow. Every tree. Every blade of grass, even small rocks and gravel from the dirt road marched towards me. Another bright flash of light and thunder erupted under my feet and in that moment everything stopped. Dead quiet. A small pebble of rain tapped the window where my hand still rested creating a tick-tock splintering effect throughout the frozen wall. The house blew away from me on all sides, as I remained static in the air. The wooden floor peeled away under me like strips of old paint as I floated down onto the soft damp bed of grass below. Gales of wind and rain, hail and dust assaulted me, filling my mouth and plastering my clothes to my body until they too blew away, disintegrating and melted away from me flying backwards. I looked back into the black swirling vortex as it swallowed my house, now in timbers like a Popsicle house busted on the playground. Everything blurred as it was sucked into that pitch black hole, even the trees bled green taking the color and chemistry of nature and collapsing it into itself. I stood against it unmoved, my eyes stung, my hair flat against my scalp as I felt it lengthen with the pull behind me. Naked now, the storm pushed down on me.

The forest ahead of me rose up like a tsunami wave over the dirt road and the sky went onyx black, almost negative. Trees uprooted and tumbled on top of one another above me and then cascading around me. The air smelled of pine, must and dirt. The earth was reasserting itself. The wind pushed through in bursts blasting showers of rock and water in piles. My feet sunk into the mesh-like web of grass and roots through to the soft rich soil below me, growing and twisting downward, taking hold, intertwining with the layers of dirt, shell and rock. I saw my hand, still outstretched against the blistering force of the storm. My fingertips shook and rattled, sprouting and splitting off into pieces. Small flowering buds pressed upward and burst out of my skin, which now was covered by a soft rubber coating; a gray membrane spotted with specs of vibrant green moss. With a load crack, my hand split open in the middle, pulling apart as the force of the wind peeled it backwards. The two flopping limbs wrapped around my body and tightened into a spiraling coil, sprouting outward immediately. They grew upward into a thousand tiny limbs and twigs, one flowing into the next, weaving an umbrella of branches above my head.

I felt myself stabilize, my feet now planted firmly below the soil, my arms and body one solid trunk that stretched and flowed like a river as it spread out on a map to each tiny vein-like ending. All that remained of me was my head resting in the center, my hair a knotty tangle of vines and leaves. I closed my eyes as my head fell forward meeting the first soft curve of a huge branch. The vines spilled forward, wrapping themselves around my trunk and into the ground. A soft rustle echoed past the other fallen trees now taking root beside me as the storm blew past, now a distant memory. The smokestack gray sky gave way to the sun as it shed beams of soft warm light lighting the newly settled forest floor. Leaves gathered and rocks found spots to nestle, adding support and comfort. All I could hear was the still tranquility and steady hum of growth.

The last thought I was allowed was to try and count the seconds between the fading sounds of thunder.