The deer in the park

I was in the middle of a forest, it was afternoon. The fog wouldn't let me see more than 300 feet from me.

I was with somebody else, I think it was my brother. The trees were monumental, the treetops far away from the brown raven ground, their trunks looked thick but fragile like a dead man's limbs. Some of these had strange forms, wavy and holed, while others were split in two.

In the middle of the forest, I found a valley, and in the middle of it, there are trees aligned in two rows, like open arms waiting for something or somebody to pass through.

I can see the sky above them, some birds coming across those walls of living wood. The threes seemed to have welcomed that unusual form, the dark green leaves on top grow effervescently, and move quietly with the wind.

I can see grey wolfs looking for something, their snouts are few centimeters from the soil, what are they looking for? I am close to them, about 20 meters away. If it is not me then to whom?

I start panicking, I hide in some half-covered hut in the middle of the forest. It doesn't feel cold inside. I peer through a wall slit. I see the sky; no clouds, no substance in it, only a dimmer blue light, a dying day on a winter coast. I turn my head and there is no hut, surprisingly I am again in the open, and I see a fawn, 1 or 2 months old. It has its small tongue on one side, it looks fragile and funny. I had the need to protect him.

I extend my hand towards it, and I think: it would scare and leave, but the deer sniffs it and gets closer. It let me touch it, and a sense of familiarity awakes in me. As if I had to do something, to care, to protect this baby deer. Then I wake up sad and without any desire to work or to do anything else. I see the light pouring over the space between the blinds, as it was telling me, you can run and hide, but you can't get away from me.