dream walkings

1996 Idaho

Trestle Creek was all I had planned for this morning’s excursion. I walked along the edge as the icy winter water trickled by. The fall leaves of yellow, orange, and red covered most everything in sight, hiding the rock people from me or so I thought. The creek bed not long ago swollen with fresh mountain snow melt now lay exposed to my marauding nature. I knelt, precariously balancing myself on the unsteady rocks to get a closer look. The sandy sides of the creek wall were crammed with rocks and who knows what other treasures. As I scanned the wall, two eyes looked out at me from the small smooth head of a rock barely sticking out of the sand. My fingers already numb from fishing rocks from the freezing stream, I began to dig this little face free from it’s trap. This was no small rock I was soon to discover but quite worth the dig. I cannot say whether I found him or he found me, but he is the biggest rock person I have yet to come across.

He sits now with others of his kind, upstairs in my sacred space, and I have to wonder if they miss the creek bed.