Lignified Lament

by Wren Salazar

Against my better judgment, I decided to take a nap around 5:00 p.m. yesterday evening. I dreamt during this nap, a vision of leaden days. I dreamt of the future, and the oracle who revealed it to me was lignified long ago. A face in a gnarled tree with no leaves, suspended on a patch of grass in a sprawling gray void. Rough bark and creaking voice, she spoke with authority and clarity. How cliché could my dream be? A tree with wisdom, old and learned; how typical. Spend enough time in one place and anyone will assume they can see the future. The ethereal tree spoke to me. It seemed to be oddly familiar, you see. The tree also seemed to look at me with eyes of sorrow. However, that could just be the sappy bark. The tree spoke of all the things she couldn’t be, “Fight for your life! Take control of your actions, or one day you’ll be like me! Lignified and rooted, cursed in standstill purgatory!” After those words, my vision blurred. The tree kept speaking of days bygone. The earliest described events were oddly reminiscent of my own past. After what felt like hours of delusion and blurred vision, I woke up in a cold sweat. The strange part, though, I could remember every detail of the dream, as though I lived it myself. As though it were not simply a product of the mind. I am beginning to think there may be a tree-related plight in my future.

Wren is an artist and story writer looking to add some whimsy and curiosity to those around her. A lover of all things, Wren seeks to help others around her with advice or humor. She can be reached at ws81@humboldt.edu.