A Brief Preface
I believe that dreams can be one of three things. The first kind of dream is the prophetic type which usually occur in many famous works of fiction. The second type of dream is symbolic, which is liberally seen in the works of the master artist Salvador Dali. The third, and final, type is the one that I like to call “a mishmash of one’s daily tensions used as a relieve valve”. The following short story is a mixture of the last two. All characters and locations are real up to a point. The characters are real, but their names have been changed just for the heck of it. As for the locations, well, I admit that I’m winging it. Enjoy!
The early morning sunlight made an attempt to break through the heavy fog in the redwood forest. The birds on the branches would occasionally call out to each other. Every now and then a pine cone would fall to the forest floor and dully thud on the wet earth. A doe and her fawn searched along the lower shrubbery for their morning meal. The silence was broken by a slight twang as an arrow flew towards the unsuspecting animals. The doe felt the breeze of the arrow as it narrowly missed her; she looked up and, with her fawn in tow,
Gladd found the trapdoor that led into the tunnel and held it open for his comrades. When everyone had gone down, he followed and closed the hatch.