United In An Ancient Wood

There was a spell binding unlimited magic surrounding this ancient woodland I found myself in, it was bursting with bird song that aroused feelings of immeasurable wonderment.

 

It was only early morning of a mid summer's eve, dawn had only just arrived. A few stars were still visible far beyond earth's sky, yet even they would pass from sight within the half hour.

 

A carpet of wild garlic flowers drifted, their fragrance rising up as if to welcome the day, while ferns quivered on the breeze. Pungent mosses still damp with dew where the sun refused to shine, were sheltered by great oaks that stood majestic, their gnarled branches refusing to weaken under the pressure of ivy that crept slowly skywards, winding its way around boughs.

 

Making my way along a path, I could hear an acoustic guitar in the distance. The trees up ahead rustled as I got nearer, I became nervous, though I had no idea why. Then something strange happened, a young child appeared from out of the quivering ferns, holding the hand of a tall bearded man. I blinked not able to believe my eyes, the man was Jim Morrison, his hair and beard were long, he wore a white cheesecloth tunic over white muslin cloth trousers. Without speaking he waved and ushered me further along the path. How strange! I thought.

 

This path was quite eerie, the dim light only just filtering through trees, but I felt safe. The child seemed quite content to walk with Jim, though his short skinny legs found it hard to keep up with my hero as he skipped along, every so often looking behind to make sure I was still following, then waving me on.

 

Soon it became lighter as we arrived at the opening to a glade. A young woman sat strumming on her guitar. I was sure I recognized her, but from a distance I couldn't be sure. She stopped playing looked up then smiled, sighing and taking in the essence and tranquility around her. I watched as her flesh tingled with excitement, I knew it was because of the day ahead.

 

She listened to the beat of the earth, putting her ear to the bark of an oak she sat under, straining to hear the whispers of the green man, as imagined faces stared back at her from the knotted network of burrs displayed on the trunk, tracing the cracks with her fingers, following lines. As if reading her thoughts I could tell she was wondering how old the tree actually was.

 

I looked for the child and Jim Morrison, but they were no where to be seen. My attention was distracted by the sound of flutes, tambourines and singing coming along the path. At this point the girl was still unaware of my existence.

 

Was I really here? I felt strange like I was on the set of some play or film, yet not knowing what I should say or where I was supposed to go. I wanted to call out, but still no sound would leave my lips. It was weird to have no idea of how I got here. Recollections of being in this ancient wood kept rising to the surface of my consciousness as I felt the beat of my heart. On an exhalation I was astonished to hear my name being called.

 

“Jenny, come and join me, welcome to what will be a wonderful day.” I then remembered her, Vivian was an old friend from way back in my teenage, bohemian days. Making my way over to her, I noticed her blue eyes gleaming, while wild thick blonde waves draped around her shoulders, a garland of tiny yellow roses entwined with ivy was shaped perfectly around her crown.

 

A small band of musicians came meandering, breaking the eeriness of the path, while a bard took their lead dressed in a long white robe, he read poetry from thin air and was accompanied by some little girls dressed as fairies in green colored leaves skipping around him.

 

Some women I'd never seen before danced their way, scattering buttercups and daisies along the path, while nonconformist guys with long hair, some with beards, wearing colorful tie dye tops and cut off jeans, played their instruments.

 

Vivian was aware of the eyes of those vigilant men gazing, her naturally tanned skin always had that effect matched with her long, flowing Indian dress she'd made herself, in colors of yellow, red with gold elephants marching one behind the other, trunk to tail, this attire was set off by her brown, leather Indian sandals.

 

Behind this merry band of traveling musicians were dray horses and carts carrying food, drink and tenting equipment, while some other carts held hay stacks and others barrels filled with ale. The procession ended with carriages being pulled by pure white dray horses, with flowers adorning their reins.

 

To my surprise, huddled together in one of the carriages waving, were a young Kate Bush and Dave Gilmore looking as handsome as ever. As the carriage came to a stop, Kate was the first to disembark, she wore a long green dress, it was like something out of the medieval era, with wide, long flowing sleeves that matched her long hair which was colored ebony. Dave was wearing a brown tunic, belted at the waist over denim jeans and brown suede, knee high boots.

 

In a way I felt we shouldn't be here in this beautiful ancient wood, disturbing the wildlife and all it had to offer to the creatures that lived here, but I couldn't help feeling the grandeur of the day.

 

Next to arrive were a young Stevie Nicks and Robert Plant. They too stepped out of their carriage. Stevie wore a long, yellow dress with daisies, wrapped around her shoulders was a silken, tie dye shawl in rainbow colors. Robert came dressed as a wandering minstrel, his beautiful, long wavy hair covered in a brown robin hood hat, with a feather sat in the brim. He came prepared, carrying a mouth organ which I hoped to hear being played at some point.

 

I couldn't believe what I was seeing, these were my heroes that I grew up with, little did they realize what an impact they'd had on my life, yet at that moment it never registered how important they actually were. Here I was not enthralled, but quite casual about my encounters.

 

Vivian threw her arms around me, kissing my cheek and telling me how great it was that I could be there. She took my hand and led me towards my heroes. My grasp on the moment suddenly felt uncomfortable and I wanted to escape Vivian's clutches. Then Stevie Nicks in her husky voice waved me over. “I hear you have some poems I can put to music,” she remarked. For the first time I was bewildered and didn't know what to say.

 

She was like an enchantress and I didn't feel worthy of her praise, so I just smiled and announced. “I don't have any poems with me, you are much better with lyrics than I could ever be.”

 

She looked at Robert, then back at me beaming. “You go and get me a drink, when you return I'll sing you a song.”

 

“What drink would you like?” I asked shyly.

 

“Some mead would be fine.” She replied.

 

I noticed it was becoming a lot warmer as the morning went on, and was so grateful for the shade of trees. As Vivian took my hand once again, I looked over and noticed that tents had already been erected, while some of the guys were placing hay bales around for people to sit on. A barbecue was being lit and a whole pig hung from a spit over an open fire, slowly roasting. Everyone was putting so much passion into the day, I felt what ever was going to happen was very important.

 

Making our way over to where drinks were being served, we helped ourselves to some mead. I noticed the little fairy girls were deep in play, running around chasing one another and screaming when they got touched by another.

 

Before we could get back, Stevie had already begun singing her song Sara. Everyone stopped what they were doing and listened. Vivian and I grabbed a couple of hay bales and seated ourselves down. I thought Stevie was so accomplished singing without any backing music.

 

Sudden unexpected hands rested on my shoulders as I felt a shiver run through me. I wasn't aware I should have feelings, or that my actual body should have any relevance here. I turned to glimpse who it was. A young Donovan planted a lighthearted, cheeky kiss on my lips and called me his Jennifer Juniper...I always did love that song. I placed my hands on his waiting to see his expression, pulling away he seemed confused as if unable to process his thoughts, I wondered if I'd misjudged his affection towards me.

 

A cheer went up as Stevie finished her song, as she did yet another procession advanced. The bard stood on the path at the entrance to the glade. Vivian again took my hand and we made our way over to see what was going on, all thoughts of Donovan had receded now. Still holding hands Vivian and I watched as more guys dressed as minstrels led a flower laden horse and cart. The fairy girls ran forward and threw lavender heads, daisies and buttercups from a wicker basket.

 

Letting go of my hand Vivian announced. “That's the bride and groom, don't they look so far out?” She held her hands together in the prayer position, jiggling with excitement, as if the couple were the most important people here.

 

The horses came to a halt as the bard welcomed the young couple. Upon closer inspection, I thought the bride looked like a young Mary Hopkin and the guy like a young Ray Davies of the Kinks.

 

“Who are they?” I inquired of Vivian.

 

“Why, they're the bride and groom of course.” She replied.

 

“I gathered that.” I said in a disapproving way. “But who are they in name?”

 

My companion gave me a look of confusion. “I don't know their names,” she uttered shrugging her shoulders. “But doesn't the bride look beautiful?”

 

She wore a long white off the shoulder dress, in embroidery anglaise, with a crown of yellow roses, her long blonde hair almost concealing her shy loveliness. Her suitor stood up to step out of the carriage, he wore a white open necked cheesecloth shirt over blue jeans and they both wore a garland of flowers around their necks.

 

I was beginning to feel dizzy with all the high spirited atmosphere. Dave Gilmore was now playing acoustic guitar while accompanying Robert Plant on mouth organ, I was getting a sick feeling in my stomach and needed to get away. Hoping I wouldn't pass out I quietly drifted passed the lovers carriage. Hearing voices calling me I didn't want to look back, it was all too much to handle. Then I saw him again, Jim Morrison, but this time he was on his own. He called to me.

 

“Jenny...Jenny...Jenny.”

 

I could feel his hands on my arms shaking me. “Jenny...Jenny wake up.”

 

My eyes opened, it was blurry as I suddenly realized I was in my back garden on a Sunday afternoon, the warmth of the sun even in the shade of the trees was hot.

 

My partner was staring down at me. “You were talking in your sleep,” he informed me, placing a coffee next to me.

 

I'd just had the strangest dream.

 

The end.