Dreams of Twelfthtide

The Night of the Spirits

“It is tonight that we rise.

For once in the year,

we wake and we walk.

To remind that we were.

That we always have been.”

The voices of the many echo in my head as I lift myself up in the middle of the forest in a pitch-black night.

Around me spheric green lights rise from the grounds like ghosts from ancient existences. Each of them seems to have been a creature on this earth. It's hard to tell which. Human? Animal? Insect? I just can't tell. They are all just entities who once roamed this land.

They rise and form a procession as if they are going somewhere.

“We gather to look at the world as it is.

And then, we go back to our slumber.

For we were the world as it was.”

I watch them pass by and somehow, I understand that I cannot go where they are going.

Suddenly one of the ghosts stops and seems to look at me. Just the same, I watch it closely. It's green and hollow. Like a woven surface of green light formed into its shape. Eventually, it addresses me,

“You need to know that the trees are thin hollow creatures of a fine woven net. What you see during day is mostly construction. The translucent green part that is alive exists between bark and wood. That's what a tree is.”

And as the ghost is saying that, all the trees start to glow in green, showing the gracious green hull that they are. Surprised, I raise my brows and think,

“Yes, that's how they are!”