This afternoon I had a hard nap---a really hard sleep with some hard dreams. I was back in Azle, Texas, where I lived from 1976 to 1983. In real life, we had some land there, with a pond, a creek, acres of oak trees.
In the part of the dream I remember, I was out in the woods, looking at oak tree after oak tree. All were huge and ancient. And one stood there with a pink garland of flowers around it. I stood there in front of it, staring and staring, trying to understand what it was trying to tell me. Something of meaning had happened on that site. I felt it, but couldn't get a grasp of what exactly.
Even as I write this, I still see those oaks. The silence of those oaks. Honestly, I think that I was dead while I was looking at them. I don't understand. I certainly have no conscious desire to be buried or to have my ashes scattered in Azle when I die. And, while I spent many, many hours out in those woods by myself when I was young... Oh. That's it, I guess. Some kind of imprinting. It was a very lonesome and desolate feeling. I don't know that I'd be happy there as a ghost. It would be familiar to me, but I don't think that I would be happy. Spooking squirrels and lost kids and leaves.