A LEAF FALLS

The bird song touched a chord in her consciousness as she drifted in the nowhere
between sleeping and waking. It was a happy song, soft and bubbly. She listened
mindlessly for a while but as the fog of sleep lifted, she realized it was a song she
didn’t recognize. It sounded so near, she was sure she would see the singer if she
looked out of her window.

She tossed … aside … the duvet. There was no duvet – there was no bed. She was
lying out in the open on a patch of grass. She shook her head and rubbed her eyes.
She was in a small sunlit glade through which a rivulet rambled. Everywhere else
was forest – tall, ancient, awesome and impenetrable. The trunks were moss-
covered and entwined with lianas. The air was green and cool. She still didn’t
believe her senses. This could not be real. What had happened to her world?

She tried to regulate her breathing. Perhaps she was hallucinating. But the bird
song was real. The forest was alive with birds of many different species, none of
which she could recall having seen before. This was crazy. How could she still be
interested in birds when she had obviously lost her reason? What other explanation
could there be? Perhaps if she relaxed and enjoyed this surprising environment, it
would make sense, or go away.

She concentrated on the birds. After all, they were her passion. She tried to pick
out the singer who had started this nightmare. There were so many birds in the
trees and on the verges of the rivulet that it took her some time to find her special
bird. It resembled a Starling in shape but had emerald green and black stripes
superimposed on a blue background, rather like a Scottish tartan. Many of the other
birds looked vaguely familiar but their colours made her think of the costumes of
chorus girls in a glossy revue. They showed no fear of her. They were busy with
their own affairs and had no time to waste on an intruder. It was seldom that birds
stayed still long enough for her to retain a clear image for later identification. If
only she had her bird book with her!
 Now she really began to question her sanity. Shouldn’t she be worrying about her
situation instead of trying to identify strange birds?

She stood up slowly and walked down to the stream. The grass was real, the sun
was warm and the water wet. It looked clean and refreshing but moved silently.
She walked up to the edge of the forest. The tree bark was rough.

She was surprised that there were no birds in the underbrush or lower forest. They
all appeared to be in the mid-section. There may have been more in the upper
canopy but the foliage was too dense to see through.

She called, “Is anyone out there?”

The birds, hundreds of them, erupted into the sky and to her astonishment formed
themselves into a rainbow that curved above the glade. It shimmered and drifted,
but retained its colour spectrum. She stood, entranced, as the rainbow slowly
evaporated and the birds perched once more in the trees.

She sat down and leaned back against a tree trunk. It suddenly occurred to her that
there were no insects. Certainly she was not aware of any ants on the ground.
There were no buzzings or hummings. There was no rustle of wind in the trees.
The only sound came from the birds.

As if in response to her thought, the birds began to sing. She had absorbed some
shocks recently but this strained her credulity to the limit. The birds were singing
in harmony as if to music only they could hear. The song reverberated amongst the
trees with the glory of a cathedral choir. She stood up, searching for the source of
the music, her brain refusing to accept the message from her ears. She was utterly
bewitched. Then abruptly the music ceased as if a conductor had lowered his baton.

The silence was palpable and haunting. It wrapped itself round her making her feel
protected and secure. She closed her eyes. She was immediately insulated from
ordinary sensory input. She felt herself floating, weightless like a feather, without
thought or fear, yet vibrantly alive. She was drifting through space, or was it
through time? It really didn’t matter.

Some time later – an aeon perhaps> - she opened her eyes. She was still standing
on the same spot in the glade where the sun still shone and the birds were again
calling.

She was tired from all the extraordinary sensations, yet elated. She had found an
inner strength she hadn’t known she possessed and had learned something
important, though she wasn’t sure quite what.

What use any of it would be to her in this unusual place she also didn’t know but
somehow the thought didn’t disturb her.
She sat down on a rock and dangled her feet in the stream. It was cool and
soothing. She bent over to have a drink and saw the whole glade mirrored in the
stream. Slowly, as she watched, one crimson leaf detached itself from a topmost
branch and dropped fluttering into the water.

The image shattered and she woke in her bed to hear the Blackheaded Oriole calling
from the fig tree in her garden.