Recurrent

May 5, 2007 at 9:49 AM

For a while, I couldn’t recall any of my dreams. But lately, I have nightly dreams with a recurrent theme: I dream of trees. Each time a tree occurs in one of my dreams, it plays a significant role, yet not always the same one. While many are stately, perfect, and awe-inspiring, others provoke feelings of adventure, terror, sadness, or longing. Sometimes I hide behind trees. I climb in the branches of trees. I run from falling trees. Lightning strikes in front of trees. Yellow and red trees swirl on the grey streets of my childhood. Every night--for a few weeks now--I dream of trees.

Out of curiosity, I researched traditional symbolism involving trees. Among many things, they portray a link between heaven and earth, with roots and branches stretching in either direction. Famous trees in history include the Biblical Tree of Life and the Tree of Knowledge, and the Buddhist Tree of Enlightenment. Even the cross, taking on the same symbolic value as the tree, is a meeting place of the divine and human. Dream interpreters claim that tree climbing is a sign of reaching toward one’s goals. Green trees stand for growth, and fall foliage could signal a migration away from old concepts or muses which are no longer useful.

I’m not quite sure what my own trees are, though. In my waking existence, I’m actually a bit disinterested and dull-minded lately. We’ve already concluded the symphony season, and my end-of-the-year studio recital is Sunday. I ended up cancelling my own recital. With no immediate musical goals, I have nothing special to share, really. Nothing new under the sun to write about, just waiting for the ice to go out.

We are currently watching the lakes open up. Two days ago, I finally heard bird songs for the first time since September. Now the sun is warm enough to awaken musty old smells of earth and sap, scents that have long been sleeping dormant under the snow. The warmth budges the last bit of film from the water. I look out at the bare branches, up at the new birds in the trees, who are also waiting. Periodically, their songs puncture the silence.

Birds make music, you know, like you and me. They also fly, and they harbor in trees. It’s funny; unless you count dreams, I’ve never been a bird. But sometimes I feel we are akin. Who knows. Maybe at night, they dream about trees, too.

From Laurie Niles
Posted on May 5, 2007 at 6:29 PM

I'm here for you, Emily, armed with my "Dream Dictionary"...(Jo-Jean-Boushahla, 1983):

"TREE (an archetype): support (trunk), strength, permanence, virility, dignity; one of the most frequent symbols indicating growth and unfolding. From earliest beginnings, trees have been connected with the gods and the mystical forces in nature. In Scripture and among certain people of antiquity, trees were a symbol of resurrection and rebirth, one of the symbols of reincarnation as seen in the falling leaves of autumn and renewal in spring. Fallen, uprooted tree: going through an uprooted period in one's life, unfertile, unfruitful, decadent. Tree trunk: uprightness, strength, power to uphold future growth. Split trunk: split personality. Jungle: usually denotes confusion or an uncivilized state of being. Roots: foundation well-rooted. Branches: branching out in life. Full of leaves: a full life. Leaves in autumn colors: a colorful life. Green leaves: growth. Falling leaves: going through a disappointing period. Buds: ready to unfold. Blossoms: full-bloom state. Seed: "plant the seed and let God grant the increase" (often related to teaching)"

From Yixi Zhang
Posted on May 5, 2007 at 8:48 PM

"What are you singing, my little violin?
Who are you calling now? Truths
the trees, my parents, taught me.
The sky above your childhood home."

~ Jan Zwicky ~

From Emily Grossman
Posted on May 6, 2007 at 5:21 AM

Hey, thanks for the dream reference, Laurie!

Yixi, I absolutely love that poem. I'm glad you shared it with me.

This entry has been archived and is no longer accepting comments.