The dream of the master gardener

Last night, I dreamt of a master gardener who has nurtured an impossibly towering red oak in the Rio Grande Valley, along with huge pines and other non-native trees. I want to talk to him so badly, as if he's a holy man. I finally speak to him, and discover that he once considered becoming a monk (as I once considered) and I tell him, "Your life work has amounted to so much more as a gardener than as a monk." He, in turn, tells me that he I could not have become a farmer, because of the sheer physicality, and that I, too, have chosen my vocation correctly. At the end of the dream, I think of Carl Jung and how, just before his death, he dreamt of the tree falling with the gold nuggets entwined it its roots.  I believe it is every person's dream to believe that the choices we have made have been the right ones, and that we have made a constructive difference in this world.

Isn't it amazing the images that our dreams give us--full of so much meaning that cannot be reduced to words. I know that in the days ahead, I will remember looking up into those towering branches and feeling the same awe and pleasure that a tree of such majesty has survived and thrived in a place far from its home.

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