More Dream Spirits

Nature occasionally speaks to me in some very curious dreams. Like in "Dreams, Schemes and Propellor Things", there are always the most unusual symbologies, yet simple wisdoms, often in the form of unique verse, always insightful on some integral law of continuity. I remember a most dramatic setting of the street where I used to live in Darthmouth, Nova Scotia. One of the oldest streets, full of Colonial Victorian houses, I always found it to breath some very strange spirits of that period. It brings to mind the perpetual rantings of the long deceased Mr. Johnston. It was his house where I lived. In his time he was the premier of Nova Scotia, when Canada first became a nation. A notorious eccentric into Rosicrucian "enlightenment" in hopes of finding some higher spiritual plane of immortal existence. I am not keen to lose myself in philosophical questions of spiritual planes, especially the way Johnston literally did. I have always understood the seemingly paradoxical as the mechanical rudiments of a far more complex dynamical system. He had this strange idea he had escaped oblivion by transcending into the omnipresent but it was really just a dilation in local causality. It could only interact with those immediately aware of it. Thus his relentless pacing throughout the night, trying to figure out where he missed the big picture, only inclined to annoy me. Fortunately in this dream, his presence had long since faded into those distant echoes of the past. The house stood abandoned and partially visible through what little space between those massive trees. I turned to find the rest of the neighbourhood in much the same state. Deserted as if humanity had simply up and vanished very long ago. Trees had always lined the streets and predominated this part of town, but looking at the house across the street they had taken over its empty shell. It was at that point the breezy voice versed something softly about these trees- I sorely wish I could remember. The verse was so eerily beautiful. It was something to the effect of trees representing a timelessness in which human existence can only seem a brief interlude. Indeed I find it disturbing how much humanity takes its own existence so for granted.