If Trees Could Dream

I've always maintained that if you don't like the weather in upstate New York, just wait a minute and it will change. Such was the case last week when the temperatures shot up into the low 60's which was followed by a huge wind and rain storm that ushered in more normal weather for this time of the year (whatever normal means in this neck of the woods). Looking out of the window at the poor trees waving back and forth in 50+ MPH wind gusts while the warm rain pelted down, I couldn't help but feel sorry for them. Here they were, quietly enjoying their own version of winter hibernation, and along comes this freak, summer-like storm to jar them our of their sleep. From there it was only a short trip to this thought: "I wonder if trees can dream?"

I've read dozens of different articles and blog posts about the idea that trees can communicate with each other and with us. If that is true, then wouldn't it also be possible that they sleep, and, therefore, dream? Here they are after a long of season of blooming, producing food, shelter and much needed oxygen for the planet, followed by all that work of dropping their leaves and finally settling their roots down for a long winter's nap. So why shouldn't they dream? And if they do, what would they dream about? 

If I were a tree, I would dream about that first breath of fresh air when spring starts to make it's arrival known, when the sun feels warm on our branches and our roots start to wake from their winter slumber. I'd dream about new birth, new growth, and a call to "branch out" and do what we were put here to do. I'd dream about new beginnings.

Come to think of it, what trees may dream isn't so very different from what we humans dream after all. We all spend the winter hunkered down dreaming of spring, new birth, and new beginnings. We all want to stand in the sun once more. Wow. Maybe the trees have been communicating with us all along and we were just too asleep in our own lives to hear them. I think I'll go sit by the window, look at the trees, and listen ... who knows what I might hear?

And so it is.