If it were but a dream, whom do I have to thank for it all?
Totally defeated by fatigue, derived from so much wandering about, he fell asleep again. In a manner that could be put forth, by some, as magical, he slept under the imposing influence of the deep roots of The Tree of Dreams. In his imagination he relived his youth, once more. This happened with total clarity, to him it seemed so real, as if he were actually alive and young, fresh and luxuriant, like if it were the first and only time in his life.
It was no more and no less, a reverie that took him back to when he was only nine years old, right to the price moment in he was celebrating that event. Clearly he revived those moments now, so far away from his present situation.
Dreams bring us back the memory of past times, lived in a remote yesterday. They are not forgiving, and so, do not allow that we fail to grasp, the inescapable fact, that behind it all, those moments belong to a past long ago spent. That they lost all actual substance. In his most intimate thoughts, he understood this, yet he persisted in his fantasy.