I, Dreamer

I had a dream
just the other night.
In this dream,
I dreamt that I
was a towering spruce,
one of many
dotting a picturesque mountainside,
purple majesty
and all that.
And I could feel
the wind
gently rustling
the needles
that lined my many,
many branches.
I was aware
of how deeply into the earth
my roots had reached,
down to their very tips.
The soil felt cold,
but it felt good,
to the touch.
All around me
chirped birds
that flew in and out of nests
they had tirelessly built
both in my trunk
and along my strong,
proud limbs,
and I could feel
their tiny feet
against my bark.
The warmth of the sun
soaked deep into my core,
and in that moment,
I was immersed
in the consciousness
of a spruce.
And then I woke up.
This dream,
however outlandish
as it may have seemed,
left me with a peculiar thought;
at this very moment,
I am a spruce
dreaming of what it means
to experience this life
as a human being.
I go about my day,
experiencing things
a normal human being
would experience.
The jolt of the first press
of java in the cold morning,
the rush of catching a taxi to work,
the joy
of coming home
to someone that loves you,
and finally,
falling asleep
knowing that all is right
with the world,
only to wake up
and to realize
that I was a spruce
dreaming I was
a human.

I wonder.


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