Wednesday, March 3, 2010

The Woods Are Full of 'Em

This morning I awoke from a dream with a recurring theme – space invaders.  No, not invaders from space, but invaders of my space – my Fortress of Solitude, my forest hermitage. 

My house is situated in the middle of over 30 acres of young woodland.  There are a couple of ancient oaks back there – but several generations ago my property was farmland so the woods today are mostly second growth.  As unspectacular as they are, however, I am enrolled in a managed forest plan and I have vowed to protect them from development for as long as I live or perhaps even beyond.  With a Voldemart only a half mile away, I like to think of my little acreage as surviving like Central Park – a bit of untamed green as a refuge for the few remaining wild things, in the midst of the rampant consumerism.

So the worst nightmares I ever experience anymore are concerned with my woods.  I have dreamt that I awake to giant yellow bulldozers crashing through my trees, leaving a trail of broken branches and raw earth.  I have dreamt of dozens of cars parked up and down my narrow driveway with people picnicking in my backyard.  I have dreamt of row upon row of little houses made of ticky-tacky, each complete with swingsets and screaming rugrats.

I have dreamt that there is a jogging path just visible on the North side of the house, about 5 feet into the woods (which are about 20 feet away from the house).  I have dreamt of camp meetings taking place on my land, with strangers sitting on my tiny porch and some of them even trying with studied determination to open my door and gain access to my house – like creatures from the Dawn of the Dead movie.  These folks set up huge tents full of folding chairs and I fully expect to see a fiery old itinerant preacher out there. 

The dream this morning was the worst so far.  I glanced out the bathroom window and to my astonishment there was a strip mall, just visible through the trees.  I looked out again and some of the trees had vanished and the mall was closer.  I saw asphalt and parked cars.  The next time I looked all of the trees had gone and there was only a paved driveway between my house and the mall.  Just before I awoke, my last horrified peek confirmed that even the paving had disappeared and now abutted to my house were a real estate broker and the whole rest of the strip mall, stretching off into the distance, all the way to Voldemart.

Maybe it would help if I put up curtains?