The Old Oak Tree's Last Dream.

And now a Christmas Story About An Old Oak Tree. It’s called:

 

The Old Oak Tree's Last Dream

 

Once upon a time there was wood near the seashore and in that wood stood a very old oak tree. It was exactly three hundred and sixty five years old but to the oak tree it seemed to be scarcely longer than a year appears to us. You see a tree’s life is not the same as a human’s.

Another way we are different is that we are awake during the day and sleep at night and that is when we have our dreams. However, it’s different with a tree, a tree stays awake during spring summer and autumn and winter is when it goes to sleep.

One warm summer day a little May fly was dancing around the tree and as it settled for a rest on one of the oak tree’s leafs the oak said,

“Poor little May fly, your life is so short, how sad”

“Sad” replied the May fly, ”What do you mean sad, It’s a beautiful warm day and I’m so happy”

“Yes” said the oak tree “But only for one day and then it’s all over for you”

“Over” said the May fly, “What does over mean, is it all over for you as well”

“Noooo Little one for I shall live for thousands of days and for me one of my years is like a day for you. My life last for so long you could never figure it out”

“No, I don’t understand at all. You have thousands of my days to live but I have thousands of seconds in which to be happy. When you die will all the beauty of this world die as well?” said the May fly.

“No” said the Oak tree, “It will last a lot longer than even I can imagine”

“Well then, we each have an equally long life, only we figure it out differently” said the May fly.

The May fly flew up off the leaf and began to dance and glide in the air, it rejoiced in the warmth of the sun, and the smell of the flowers. The day was long and beautiful, full of happiness and sweet experiences and by sunset the little May fly was very tired from all the excitement, it’s little wings would no longer support it and very gently it glided down onto the leaf of the Oak tree closed its eyes and fell into a very deep peaceful sleep, for the May fly life was over.

“Poor little May fly” said the oak, “So short a life”

Every summer day the same tale was repeated, the same questions and the same answers, the same peaceful sleep. The Oak tree saw generations of May flies and all of them were happy and light hearted.

Spring, summer, and autumn passed and soon it would be time for the oak tree to go to sleep. The wind was beginning to sing its winter song,

“Good night, good night. There falls a leaf, there falls a leaf, I plucked it, I plucked it. Go to sleep, I will sing you to sleep, I will gently rock you to sleep. Do your old branches feel good, do they creak in pure contentment. Sleep sweetly, sleeeep sweetly. This is your three hundred and sixty fifth night, but your only a baby. Sleep sweetly, the snow is beginning to gently fall, it will spread a warm blanket over your roots. Sleeep sweetly and have pleasant dreams” sang the chill winter wind.

The oak tree stood stripped of its leaves began to sleep and in its sleep it began to dream of something that had happened to it long long ago. You see trees dream just like we do.

The Oak tree had once been very small, so small in fact that an acorn had been its cradle but now it was nearly four hundred years old. It was the tallest and mightiest tree in the wood towering high above all the other trees. It was so tall that it could be seen far out to sea and it served as a landmark for ships to steer by. The Oak tree never realised how many eyes looked for it, it just thought of the wood pigeons that had built a nest high up in its branches, and the cuckoo which made its strange sound in the morning. It knew about the birds that rested on its branches before making their long journey across the seas. Now it was winter and it listened to the crows and the jackdaws who came to gossip about the hard times that were beginning and how difficult it was to find food in the winter. It was Christmas and the oak dreamed its most beautiful dream of all and it is this dream that I will tell you about.

The Oak had a funny feeling that something big was happening, he could hear all the church bells ringing and the day was mild and warm, like a summers day. The oak spread its mighty branches and sunbeams played lightly on its leaves. The air was filled with the fragrance of herbs and blossom, butterflies played catch me if you can and May flies danced happily through the air. All the trees long life seemed to pass by as if it was a holiday procession. Knights and ladies of bygone days with feathers on their caps and hawks on their wrists rode through the wood, dogs barked and hunting horns sounded. The tree saw soldiers in shiny armour with spears and halberds pitching their tents, sitting by camp fires and singing songs. Next it saw young lovers meeting in the twilight, carving their names or initials in the grey green bark of its trunk. They played music on harps and sang sweetly to each other and the wood pigeons cooed as if expressing what the tree felt, and the cuckoo announced how many more summer days it had to live.

Then in its dream the oak tree seemed to be filled with a new and stronger current of life, it flowed through its veins, down to its smallest roots, up to its highest branches, even out to the tip of its leaves. It felt as if it was stretching, life and warmth stirred down in the earth around its roots and it felt the strength increase and that it was growing taller and taller. Its trunk shot up, its branches became thicker and it grew and grew and grew reaching higher and higher as it reached for the bright, warm sun. It was now high above the clouds and every leaf could see as if it had eyes, the stars became visible, all shining like clear bright eyes twinkling in the sky. To the oak tree they looked like the kindly eyes it had known through its life, those of children and lovers who met beneath the tree. 

It was a blessed moment, so full of joy and yet tinged with sadness for the oak dearly wished that all the other trees in the wood, all the bushes, plants, and flowers could be lifted up and share in this moment. To share in its glory for in its dream the oak could not be fully happy without all the others, small and great, sharing in it. It felt this yearning coursing through its leaves and branches as strongly as if it had a human heart.

The oak looked back to the earth and suddenly it began to smell the scent of the herbs and blossom, it seemed to be getting stronger, nearer. He could hear the sound of the cuckoo as it talked to itself and now it began to see the green tops of the woodland peeping up through the clouds. The oak saw that the other trees were growing and lifting themselves up as it had, bushes, plants, and flowers were rising high into the air, some even tearing themselves loose from their roots to soar up even faster. The birds quickly followed and sang and on the grass far below the grasshopper sat and drummed his wings against his legs. The beast of the fields called out and the bees buzzed. Song and happiness were everywhere, right up into heaven.

“This is wonderful” said the oak tree, “I have them all with me, small and great, non have been forgotten. But how can this be possible”

And a voice sounded from high above “In the kingdom of God all things are possible”

And the oak tree continued to grow, as it came loose from the earth it said “This is best of all, now no bonds shall hold me and I can soar to the heights of glory and light and all my loved ones are with me”

That was the dream of the Oak tree, and while it dreamed on that holy Christmas Eve, a mighty storm was sweeping over land and sea. The waves crashed onto the shore; the tree cracked, groaned, and was torn up by the roots, at the very moment when it was dreaming that its roots were freeing themselves from the earth. It fell. Its three hundred and sixty-five years were now as a day is to the May fly.

On Christmas morning, as the sun rose ,the storm had passed. All the bells were ringing and smoke appeared from every chimney. The sea was now calm once again and out at sea, aboard a ship that had weathered the storm all the flags were raised to greet Christmas Day,

“The Tree has gone, the old oak tree that was our landmark” said the sailors,

“It must have fallen during the storm last night. What can ever replace it” The answer came back “Nothing”

That one simple word was the trees eulogy, brief but sincere. It lay stretched out on a carpet of snow near the seashore while over it drifted the sound of a hymn being sung on the ship. Sung in thanksgiving for the joy of Christmas, Joy for the salvation of the soul through the birth of Christ and Joy for the gift of eternal life.

Sing loud, sweet angel, on Christmas morn.
Hallelujah! Christ the Saviour is born.
In joy receive His blessing.
Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

These were the words of the old hymn, and everyone aboard the ship felt himself lifted heavenward by them, and by prayer, even as the old tree had lifted itself in its last, most beautiful dream that Christmas Eve.