Fragments of a vision

I am a single mother of thirty something, with a child, a little boy whose name I do not know. Night time is befallen over the cottage where we live, in some faraway place full of rustling trees. The boy does not speak. Not that he does not want to, he could not speak, he does not know how to speak. For a second it occurs to me that it's all my fault; because I myself am deadly silent, and I figure that I have never spoken with him before. It is well clear from the befallen silence that I had long given up on words, and that I had decided to raise a mute child.

#2

I am a very old lady, and the signs of age are sculpted all over me. I am sitting on a chair in the open fields, but there are no traces of a home anywhere in sight. I have no idea how or when I got there. Every single wrinkle on my face, and every single white hair on my head is a different tale to be told; but I remember none of them, because time has devoured my memory, just as it did to my home & every other thing there once was. All I have left is the chair I am sat on, and the sound of the trees in the field rustling.

At this point I am not so sure what I'm waiting for; I could be waiting for death, and I could be waiting for life.

#3

Tree branches are growing out on me. They are coming out of slits on my arm. There is no blood, no pain, nothing, just tree branches fast growing right before my bare eyes. I am sort of terrified. Or not quite terrified, I am rather left in awe. I observe my treeful arms for a while, and then I close my eyes & take a deep breath.

#4

I am a tree. Silent, still, and perfectly rooted in the soil. I can feel the wind, and I can feel the contentment of being rooted in Earth, of having a home. I am comforted at the fact that I do not have to speak, I do not have to remember, and at the fact that no one is going to take my home away from me. You would say I am dead, but I have never felt more alive. I arch up a little, and I remain standing there in eternal peace.