The Fig Tree

I dreamt of a fig tree. It was a scraggly thing. Tall and lanky with green and brown blushed fruits. There was a man, my age perhaps. His short blond hair and pale completion spoke nothing of his knowledge. He was attractive for sure but his demeanor was not of pleasure but of urgency. His message was of warning.

“Don’t eat the fruit”

There was nothing wrong it. Most of the figs were unripe and still hard but there were a few brown pare shaped lobes, hanging in small bunches from the lower limbs. The tree needed water but the mass of unripe fruits told of a bountiful year.

Reaching for fig, just above my head; I was stopped by this man. The message was the same.

“Don’t eat the fruit”

Holding on to the fig, still attached to the tree, I asked Why?

He searched for an answer. He looked at the tree but it seamed as if his gaze passed through the branches and into the sky. Looked back at me, he said the tree was dirty and that the bugs had gotten to the fruit.

Sure the tree was a little run-down looking but nothing a good pruning and better attention the soil wouldn’t fix. The bugs, they weren’t a problem either. There were a few small worms here and there. I picked one off a clump of unripe figs and squished it between my fingers. Showing my worm splattered thumb and pointer finger to the man, he leaned back in mild discussed.

“If you want to eat, you can’t be afraid to get dirty,” I told him.

Wiping my fingers on my jeans and finally pulling the ripe fig from the bough, I saw the man’s face sink into disappointment. I wondered why he would be so opposed to the fruit. The tree looked healthy and the surrounding vegetation looked as well. I took a bite of the soft fruit. Its delicate flesh and sweet fragrance filled my mouth as much as any dream fruit could. It was nothing out of the ordinary but still the man reacted as if I had committed a grave crime. Perhaps I had. There were no other people around. The grove was thick with plant life and it didn’t seam tamed as a garden would. Still, the fruit was sweet and fresh. Ultimately, enjoyable seeing how my body lay back in the dark, cold nights of a northern Minnesota February. Here in this dream place, some one was alive and some one was dying.

[2011]