I sat at a tea party with a doctor, a teacher and a fireman. While I sipped my tea and listened to their childhood dreams, a flock of birds danced gracefully in the sky above me awaiting my next move.
The pirouetting birds had been following me for a while. Their eyes were my own and often one would swoop down and light on my shoulder to whisper tales of what had been seen from above. They had told me more than once of a place where I could rest next to bubbling streams, gather fruits from a tree or informed me of a danger that awaited me that I could not see. Many times I owed my ability to find adventure and treasure to the birds who observed from the skies. I sometimes would tell the doctor of these sky dancers and our adventures together. She would shake her head in mirth and disbelief. She claimed she never saw the birds.
Slightly to my left and standing a safe distance away was a elegant Arabian stallion carrying my recently found treasures in a pack from my latest archeological dig. His graceful arched neck revealed his regal heritage and although my pack had been slung on his muscled back, he carried the fire in his eyes that showed he was still as wild as the day I had found him. His gratitude towards me is what caused him to stand calmly, awaiting our next moment when I would cling to his hair as he flew across the ground. The moment I had taken the ropes off him that were meant to bind, to subdue and control, is what had created our unique friendship. I would tell the teacher of the irony of the wisp of a girl and the wild stallion sometimes. Her laughter bubbled off her lips, but her eyes always danced in time with the tales. She claimed she never saw his pricked ears or heard his soft whinny.
Next to me lounged a white wolf whose wise eyes revealed that he indeed understood every word that was being said. We had been together the longest and shared the most treacherous adventures. I had found him as a pup in the dark woods, abandoned by fate who had taken his mother. I had raised him to be in the wild, but he found his purpose protecting me. Faithful, discerning and brave, he was my best friend. I had trusted him with my life when we had been attacked by the grizzly bear who was a man killer, when we had discovered the museum’s treasures protected by a gang of over muscled criminals with blood thirst in their eyes and when I was lost inside the deep cave I clung to his hair as he guided us back to the sunlit opening. I would tell the fireman of his heroics and fierce loyalty sometimes. He sat wide eyed in disbelief of what true bravery was. He claimed he never saw the soft white coat or heard the low growls.
As we had our tea with the eyes of my friends waiting nearby, I listened to the reality of their childhood dreams. I tried to focus on their dreamed purpose, but my heart was flying on the back of a stallion pounding the earth towards true adventure. I knew my friends would never hear the thundering hoofs, but I had to tell them even though they snickered in disbelief.
I should have told them I wanted to be a writer and one day they would be able to stroke the wolf’s luxurious fur, they would hear the whisper of a tiny bird in their ear telling them of the crystal clear streams and they would be able to feel the wind rushing by on the back of a wild stallion.
Did you ever have a tea party with a wolf? What were your childhood dreams?
Categories: childhood dreams