To live a dream is a dream come true

'Twas the morning after the full moon's eve, and a few field mice were stirring. Ever aware of their meager hierarchical position on the food chain, they cleared a path for the wolvenspirit, who bounded lightly through the lush green grass in search of– not mice, but release. He had just climbed over the barbed wire fence running parallel to the tree-lined mountain road, pausing a few seconds afterwards only to listen to the familiar, euphonious sound of the heavy breeze sweeping through the ironwood leaves. It could greatly be likened to the sound of the sea, only so much lighter and more peaceful. Only this sound, and perhaps the ocean waves quietly setting down upon a desolate beach's sandy shores, could possibly be used to define his spirit in a state of complete contentedness. When he noticed with his refined sense of vision approaching headlights, he quickly bolted up the grassy slope, away from the road. The rise was steep, and the air much thinner than what his body was acclimated to, so he quickly found himself out of breath. The car passed, the driver undoubtedly oblivious to the presence of anyone out there besides the ancient whispering spirits that roamed these mountains. As he relaxed his pace and continued uphill in a much more quiescent manner, striding parallel to an electric fence, he could hear them. Soft, low voices, words indiscernable. Many residents found them scary, and would not consider wandering this mountain in the evening, but he considered them quite soothing. He could have been hearing things, such as the faint, eerie whooshing noise of the windmills not far away, but he preferred to imagine that ancient Hawaiian spirits were keeping him company as his bare feet swept through the lush, verdant grass. The wind rolled down the mountain slope quite forcefully, challenging him to continue upward against the sheer intensity of its gusts. He persevered, however, knowing that only the cold, driving rain that typically reigned upon this region might convince him to back down, and the sky this morning was clear as a diamond. And the moonlight, oh, it was resplendent enough to safely drive by without headlights, barring other inattentive drivers on the road.

He passed closely by Kahua Ranch, a tiny mountain locale featuring a hydroponics facility, windmill farm, and a few residences and stables nestled amongst a grove of ironwood trees. Farther up the mountain, his destination came into view– the old FAA station placed in a lofty location. Nothing would fulfill his morning's wander more than reaching that zenith. And nothing would stop him. He followed no roads, but when encountering formidable electric fences imposing upon his continuance, he usually came upon gated by-ways after only a few seconds of searching. As he passed the ranch, he settled into a rhythm, allowing the beauty to permeate through his skin and into his spirit. The cold, soft grass felt remarkable upon the undersides of his feet, and the winds rustling his mane felt truly invigorating. His heart was beating at a rapid pace, ready to spring out of his chest and soak the silvery green grass with its beautiful scarlet red, the majestic color of strength and vitality.

After shifting directions to follow the contour of the mountain, he encountered several fences, which he either climbed over or rolled beneath. As he proceeded forward along the pasture, little did he expect to encounter a large group of equinefolk, about thirty or forty long-faced creatures. Every last one of them ceased their resting and grazing to quietly observe his movements. He slowed, observing them in return, gazing into as many large, round eyes as he could to communicate that he meant no harm. They seemed hardly intimidated, for many begin to approach him in standard graceful equine fashion. Never had he been afraid of horses, and never had horses been afraid of him. He always found their beauty and grace greatly worth of admiration and emulation. Silently, he moved in amongst the crowd, now more or less surrounded by creatures several times his body weight, and not minding at all. One horse stood apart from the pack, looking in, and she did not move away as the odd wanderer approached her. She was exceptionally gorgeous, the way her sleek coat sheened in the moonlight with seemingly more luminance than anyone else, with the physical form and aura of pride and dignity of a show horse. As she investigated his outstretched paw with her nose, he wished he had an edible treat to offer her. A simple scritch on the mane had to suffice. As he enjoyed their calm, quiet company, he began to envy their lifestyle. Here, perfectly at home upon this quiet hillside, with an astonishing view down the mountain all the way to the sea, feasting on damp, green grass all day. No busy agenda, no schedule book to maintain, no alarm clock to wake up to. How on Earth could humanity think it's actually superior to all other species?

Slowly, he broke away from the crowd, wishing dawn would procrastinate her own arrival for a few hours so he could linger about. The crowd began to follow him, stopping when he stopped, proceeding when he proceeded. He led them all the way to another electric fence, which he slipped under, and left them behind. Of course, he promised to visit them once more on his way back. His destination suddenly appeared much closer as he continued along the contour, not pausing until he reached the paved one-lane road which wound up to the very top. Of course, hard asphalt was not nearly so friendly to his feet, so he remained on the grass, following parallel to the steep road. It curved up behind the hill and met up with the barb wire-garnished chain link fence which surrounded the facility. Before he could celebrate reaching the apex, he had to shield his sensitive eyes from the bright amber security light affixed to one of the buildings. He steered away from the unwelcome distraction and set down on the other side, his legs dangling over the hill which plummted down onto the steep road he had just climbed, trying to make sense of all the majesty before him.

Glancing back down the mountain, he could easily see the ranch from which the road originated, lively as a forgotten cemetery with crumbling tombstones. Everyone was surely asleep, dreaming, perhaps, of liberation from the monotony of daily routine, or the unadventurous life. This inspirited wanderer dreamt of a beautiful moonlit morning, where the clock had only struck 2 a.m., or at least he reckoned. A place where he could see across rolling grassy hills down to the ocean from 5000 feet. A place where he could see the moonlight's expansive, silvery-white reflection upon the ocean. The only way to tell apart the void of the ocean from the void of the sky was to gaze at the brilliant reflection upon the water's surface, which immediately halted at the horizon. A narrow band of swiftly moving clouds spread before him, and so much farther in the distance burned the lights of the various coastal resorts. It all seemed so spectacularly far away, as if he was sitting somewhere up in heaven partaking of such a scene. He was truly even with the clouds, and his spirit felt as if it was sitting upon one. The scene of a dream. Could this possibly be reality, the same reality that so many lament and comfort themselves by reminding they'll someday escape from, or was he just dreaming it? If only... if only he could take photographs of scenes from his dreams.

The tower rose up mightily into the regal night sky above every tree and the nagging amber light, its queer-looking white sphere set aglow by the moon. Hardly complete would the night be if I did not opt to follow the winding steel staircase that led to the very top. Climbing over the chain link fence proved to be hardly challenging enough for a seasoned intruder, and the chain link gate that impeded access at the foot of the staircase was easily scaled. The wind became much stronger the higher he climbed, until it finally became so strong he could only maintain his balance by hanging onto the round steel railing or leaning into it diagonally. On the second to final set of stairs, he was forced to hold on tightly to the railing, for concern of being blown backwards. So is the nature of trade winds at such elevations. They blow along thousands of miles of ocean, entirely unobstructed for the entire duration, and when they finally hit a land mass at such an elevation, they hit with some force. He could feel the tower shaking, even swaying slightly as he reached the giant sphere's padlocked bottom door, upon which was posted a warning sign Just beneath the door, the wind blew with considerably less force, so he settled down to rest and partake of the panoramic view. So far away down the peninsula seemed the lights of his town, across miles and miles of darkness and wild. The stream of clouds to the west moved along with mesmorizing rapidity, simply dissolving before him as they reached warmer temperatures. His mind recalled the first time he had ventured up here, so many years ago, at a time he felt he had to choose between a release into the wild or a hole in his body. What a magical experience it was, one that forever inspired his fascination and love for the night. One of the earliest experiences that made him realize who he truly was.

The wolvenspirit stayed up there for another half hour or so, quietly reflecting and recollecting, until he lost interest in enduring the wind's incessant barrage. Slowly, he made his way back down the steps, and crossed back over the gate and perimeter fence. No headlights were approaching from any direction. Nothing would have dared desecrate such a surreal dreamscape, at least, in his mind. As 4 a.m. approached, he decided to wander back down, the wind at his back, guiding him home. He congregated with the horses again for awhile, properly saying farewell to each of them. As he ambled back down the hill, he glanced back up several times, noticing a heavy blanket of clouds beginning to set in behind the mountain. It seemed to take no more than a few minutes to reach the highway, but he seemed not content to go back home just yet. On the opposite side stood an iron gate, beyond which another rolling, grassy hill rose up into the sky. Over the gate he climbed, then set out upon a narrow dirt road twisting about the pasture. It led through another electric fence and by chance, up the hillside. He did not expect to encounter a cinder quarry, at the bottom of which someone has set up a firing range with wooden frames and large rubber tires as targets. Amazing how one can live in a place for years, and not be aware of so much that lies just beyond their backyard. Proceeding beyond to the crest of the hill, he reacquired his view of the moonlight reflecting upon the ocean, which had become all the more intense with the passage of time. He happened upon a cement slab housing a geological survey marker, and sat down, thoroughly awe-stricken by the scene's mesmorizing beauty. Behind him, a bright planet hovered above the hills he had left behind, and the royal blue sky gradually lightened in color. Dawn was approaching ... approaching all too quickly. He continued to sit, simply staring at the moon until it became obscured by clouds, then shifting his gaze downward to its reflection upon the sea. The majesty of the landscape was almost too much for him to fathom. Finally, he picked himself up and headed back, gazing back up the hill at the tower he had climbed seemingly so long ago. Behind him, the clouds lifted slightly, revealing the moon once again in dawn's earliest light. The heavens told him that he would never forget this early August morning. Never for the life of him.