Lifestyle Magazine

the Farm

By Spearcarrier @rainbowprophet
I was telling a friend the other day about one of the entires in this blog, and how it definitely is doing what it's meant to do. It doesn't matter if I have no readers. It does matter if I can figure things out. And it was quite the revelation the other day, realizing the "hunters" of my childhood dreams may not have been that. I mean, how many hunters wear military uniforms?
Of course as a child I didn't know those were military uniforms, it's just that hunting was something I could relate to. They carried guns, they carried pouches, they rode in the back of a truck... and my father would hunt and fish and bring home natural game for us to eat. It made perfect sense. It was always dark when I saw these guys, so it may still be that they were hunters and maybe I was watching things through the eyes of their dogs. So even now it makes sense, but I recognize the clothes when my husband puts one on. He's currently in a special training unit, so he doesn't always wear the standard uniform you'll see in the news report. In fact he more often than not just wears straight "greens" - especially when working the training field.
There are some differences, of course, but there it is. For real or not. 
I've also seen these greens recently, while in an  underground base while wandering in places I shouldn't be.
the Farm
There is something else I just remembered thanks to writing this entry.
After that incident with the "burglar" in my room, my family moved from where we were to a place more in the country. It was right outside of a hunting club. There were a lot of woods - boy do I miss them! And so my dreams changed from meeting the hunters by being taken to them to meeting them at the hunting club by walking down the road to them.
But also I dreamed there were other things in those woods, and one of them was a big mansion that I had went to. I'm not sure how I got there, but I knew I'd time traveled to do it. It was bright day light and the path leading up to it was how you see many old English mansion; lined with perfectly manicured trees and well-graveled. I went up to the house but didn't go inside. And these days I think maybe it was just a big house for someone who was rich, but as a kid I took it to be a mansion. Light-colored brick; I can remember that much about it.
And then I went again another night, but it had burned down. There was nothing left.
While awake I'd also explore those woods. Sure, we kids knew it was a hunting club. We also knew the land was in dispute for some reason and that not many people went back there anymore. My older brother and cousins went all over the place out there. I mostly followed the pig trails, not really understanding my danger despite my frequent nightmares about getting mauled by wild boars (which eventually faded into more gruesome nightmares).
While exploring in the woods alone, one of the first times I dared to do it, I came across the house of my dreams. I could still see the tree-lined path. I walked up it and found what was left of the house, but there wasn't much there anymore Just some trash and a few bricks. It had been gone a long, long time.
My older brother told me that there were time travel ley lines in those woods, and for most of my life I believed it. Now I wonder just what it was.
Because there was at least one other incident that I'll never forget. We kids had went deep into the woods into the swampy section and found a tiny island in the water. We were building a fort there. Well, the others were much older and forgot about it rather quickly. But I was still very young and kept my interest. One day I decided to go to the Fort and work on it by myself. So I went.
While on the island a little boy showed up. He was very fair-haired and maybe a year or two older than me, but keep in mind we were both under ten. I can't remember how he introduced himself, but we were immediate friends and spent a long time playing together. At one point he asked if I lived nearby. I said yes and told him where. He then said he lived just over the ridge and that he would show me so I could visit whenever I wanted.
We climbed up over a small hill by the island and I looked down into this flatland, almost like a prairie. There was a farmhouse there, those farm fences with the x across them, and cows. The house was white. There was no road or anything, just the house, grass, cows, and off to the left a big barn. I can't remember the color of the barn, just the house. And that there weren't that many cows.
We played on the island a bit longer and then he had to go home. So I went home.
I tried to find the island again, to play with the boy again, the next day. But I couldn't find it. I tromped around in those woods lost for hours. I tried to find it again several times after that, but I never found our island again. And it's like the time I did play with him never happened, just the parts I described. I know we did some sort of kid roleplay the way kids do: things you take for granted so that all you remember is moving around young saplings and each other's faces, smiles. But that's it.
And the area where I lived was Florida. There was no place anywhere near my home that looked remotely like what the boy had shown me.
I never forgot him, though. Nor that day. I've often wondered if he tried to find me to play again as well. If you relate, then we can chat.

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