The Station, Part 22

Another dream unlike any I’ve ever had before. What I wouldn’t give to talk to a psych officer right now. Then again, how fast do you think he’d take me off duty? I kid myself. This was no ordinary dream. This had…substance. I’m retaining memories of sensations. Of a different, I don’t know, a state of being. Haven’t felt like this ever. It’s not merely as if I had been transported into another body or place, it was as if I had always been in this state. Like it was natural to me. There was a sense of well-being, and a concern for another. Sure I know these feelings sound very human, but I tell they were not. These emotions had other ties, other senses that allowed them to be possible. Listen to me, you must think I’m raving. I check out for a few hours and come back spouting nonsense about some wacky dream. You know, it could be just an effect of too much oxygen in my helmet. It could very well be. But I don’t thing so. You’re not here. You’re not seeing what I’m seeing.

Alright, enough of the self-analysis for now. Back to business. I haven’t taken in my surroundings just yet. Been on introspection mode. It’s something of a twilight state here. Oddly serene in a way. I see what looks like wheat or barley swaying in, all be damned, a breeze. I like the sound it makes. It’s a familiar thing, like home. Something is silhouetted against the silvery background. Looks like trees. And that silver. That has to be a version of moonlight. This place continues to amaze. I want to take a look at those trees for some reason. I think I may know what they are. Think I’m crazy? Maybe I am. But I need to prove to myself that I’m not. Trouble is, in order get close to enough to identify exactly what these trees are I have to cross into the field. I don’t know why, but just thinking of doing that makes be fearful. Some instinct kicking in? Or just a leftover from the last place? The wheat-like grass comes up to about my armpits, so I’ll be able to see over it. It’ll provide some advantage over whatever else is hiding amongst. I don’t know if there’s a damn thing inside that field but not knowing is the very reason I’m making myself go. I’m not letting the animal in me win this time. Fight or flight my ass.

I’m crossing into the grass and the ground crunches under my boots. The natural detritus of new replacing the old. Just for the sake of curiosity I’m taking a really close look at one of the stalks. I don’t think I’ve ever seen wheat up close and personal, but I think it would look something a lot like this. The rest of its brothers sweep up and down in the breeze, looking like choreographed dance, or wind over an ocean. Take your pick. I see no other movement. I’m walking further in, closer to the trees. I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something in the grass, watching me. Now I don’t feel as threatened by it. But more and more, there’s this sense of familiarity about it. Like I should know where I am right now. Except where here is shouldn’t be here at all. Doesn’t make any sense at all to you, does it?

It’s an acacia. I know these trees like old friends. My parents had planted one in our backyard. I used to climb it when I was kid. I can remember pretending to be Tarzan surveying his jungle kingdom. The only real difference between that tree and this one is the one in front of me is just a little larger. The first thing I’ve recognized about this place and it makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. A tree, from Earth, light-years from where it should be. I think by that alone, makes it the downright strangest thing I’ve seen inside this whale so far.