I am travlling with some people by car. It is getting dark and we stop off at a camping site. I get a bed in a lovely spacious cabin, where I am put in a room by myself. Very quickly, I make myself at home, and totally lose track of my travelling companions.
Once I get settled in, I go outside. The campsite seems strangely empty - there is only one man sitting on the bench. Instead of green grass, everything is blighted, the trees stand naked against a sky that's streaked with gray upon gray skuttling clouds. Instead of feeling frightened, I become exhilirated in the brisk wind that seems to blow from everywhere at at once. I raise my arms as the lightning streaks light up the roiling clouds, and begin to dance across the brown grass that crunches beneath my bare feet. At one point my hand brushes against a bush and I find thorns dotting my palm and fingers. Still laughing and dancing, I finally come to where the man is sitting, watching me silently. With a gasp, I sit down next to him and tell him how much I love the drama of the clouds. He says nothing, but smiles gently in understanding.
I sense that some time has gone by, like a fast-forward button, and I am now part of the life in this little camping community. There are many children there, and some adults have taken to instructing them in various things. Most of the teaching takes place along the winding trails, where the children learn about the wild herbs, stones and birds. I begin to tell them about the sky, and the heavenly bodies around us.
Cabins grow into lodges as more people join us. I feel as though I am truly, finally home...
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