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THE HIGH WOODS

by Jacqueline Ives (Age: 79)
copyright 01-15-2012


Age Rating: 16 +

THE HIGH WOODS

 

         I was travelling on a bus in the countryside – it might have been in my home county of Surrey, some years ago, but even so, it could not have been near my home village, for I felt so lost and far away, and had just left some garden party with a slightly unpleasant feel to it. Suddenly I realised that I would have to dismount from the bus, having  brought a small, dingily striped folding chair with me, instead of my bright, cherry-patterned shopping trolly which  must have been left at the garden party – and I would have to go back, and then go through the whole process again, waiting for the bus, et cetera.

       The dream was so vivid and realistic that the sign came up, Bus Stopping when I rang the bell.   Upon dismounting, I took a turning to the left and started to walk along a lane bordered by trees, but decided not to go  via a path forward at an acute angle on my right, a rising incline sign-posted the “High Woods” …

             Another time, walking along a wide road, I became lucid in my dream, and started to call out to everyone I could see that this was a dream. One man, a hippy-looking character with shabby clothes and long, brown hair, passed me, walking the other way. We both looked round, as you sometimes do when you pass like this.  We both called out:

         “This is a dream!”

           (Believe I passed the same man in real life either the next day or the day before.  Wonder if he experienced the same dream!).

          In the dream, after turning left along a lane, I presently climbed a steep, wooded slope to my right, finding a building, a house, at the top. I asked the question:

         “Is this the place that is my home, that I will always come back to, if I have more lucid dreams?”

        I had to scramble through a lot of wire to get to the house, but then, looking through the window, I saw people moving about dimly in what may have been a kitchen. The one who stood out was a man with no head, but a lot of red just above his neck where his head should have been. I decided not to enter the house!

        Returning down the slope by a different route, I reached a flight of wide steps, but remembering it was a dream, I realised I could fly, which I did …

       Yet it seems that I am destined to return to these “High Woods”.

        







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        01-11-2015     Mike Farr        

Hello Jacqueline,

I have always enjoyed real life stories like this; it sets one’s mind to pondering just how the universe ties together, as we experience mystical adventures within our earthly confines, weather in dream or in our daily routines. You might enjoy my poem (Singularity). Nice Job, I enjoyed your story.






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