Reaching for the Dream

A dream is no different than this dragonfly just within grasp. To reach for it is the point, to go for it is the challenge, to get it is the hope. To believe that what makes one happy is the most significant thing someone can do for themselves is huge. As little red riding hood was skipping through the forest was she dreaming? Was she on her way to Grandma's house because she had to? Or, she wanted to? What if LRRH was a young lady who felt she looked really sexy and cool in her new red cloak. She was dreaming about who is chopping wood deep in the forest. She had heard this chopping several times on her way to Grandma's. Who could it be? It has to be a strong male (or so a female should hope). The blows are powerful and sure. She decides on the spot that she will finally see "who" is doing the chopping. Putting down her basket and carefully taking off her bright red cloak to tuck snug next to it on the ground, she sets off. She just wants a peek. Could it be someone handsome? Muscular? Tall? Her imagination begins to run wild with romantic possibilities. She creeps around trees being very careful not to stir the dry leaves too much. Because it had just rained she was fortunate to find damp leaves to step on that didn't make as much noise. Finally, she is behind a large tree and hears the chopping close. Carefully easing her head around the tree she sees shoulders and arms welding a hefty ax. Whoomph Whoomph...the axe goes rhythmically down and up. For a while she is mesmerized with the rhythm, watching the shoulder muscles bunch and tight, the arms intense with effort. Suddenly, she is stunned out of the melodic rhythm because the whoomphng sound has stopped. She finds herself holding her breath, waiting. He (?) is wiping his brow with his arm; he is resting his forearms on the axe that is now resting on the ground awaiting further use. As LRRH is about to take a quiet breath she hears,

"So, do you want to help or not?"

Her heart feels like it has stopped, she holds her breath tighter, is he talking to her?

Turning, he looks at her with a questioning brow. His long snout is light tan and brindled with shining soft whiskers. His eyes are velvet brown, soft and warm. And his teeth, though alarmingly pointy, somehow are displayed in a warm smile of lips that offers friendship rather than fear.


Watching his ears twitch in anticipation, realization strikes LRRH...ohhhhhhh, this is a fairy tale!