Blood Bird and Tall Trees

Through a dense forest I walked in the wintertime, called to share my knowledge for some purpose, and ostensibly to investigate an abandoned fairy playground. A horse wanted to come with me, but I could not get her over the very high fences. Thick snow covered the path but, my way, I could see clearly through it. All was frozen but I wasn’t cold.

Before me there was a magnificent giant bird; in all dreamworlds I have not seem anyone like him. He was a behemoth Wren, but a shock of blood-crimson color against the snow. Unlike a Wren in every way but that he was shaped liked one. I followed him and he led me through an abandoned barn.

On the other side were giant trees, a hundred times taller than the Giant Sequoias, and the snow was gone, and my breath was drawn from me. The trees breathed in place of my lungs and I became a part of them, sharing in their respiration. Horse found her way in the end.



image source: public domain

The Color of the Scent of Sea-Jasmine

A dream.

There is my own ship with my name on it. The wind is taking her out to sea. I jump into the deep salt blue to catch her ropes but, I am a fish, and the sky billows beyond me. It is quiet down here. The songs of whales. Breathing through water, so soothing and right, how did I ever live in the air? Fins are faster than legs, and more fluid. With the whale songs are the shanteys of mermaids. I am not the harbour.

Now, these pirates are shepherds, the ones who ferry souls from here to the Other Side. Pretty ladies in dresses of seaweed and sweetgrass, jasmine and the bark of the redwood trees twirl in unison as the sun passes down on its way. The deck is open to the four mighty winds, the sails are hoisted, and the soul of the ocean is open. Sirens, sing a name for the color of the scent of sea-jasmine. These enchantresses, they always do. They laugh and sing sweetly of Love.



photo in the public domain

She Finds For Us a Way

A dream.

My horse I am riding is trying to jump us over an impossible fence. The barricade is made of something harder than stone, but barely a few feet high. What forcefield barrier is this? On one side of the divide is a freeway, and on the other side, an ancient forest. The trees in this forest are taller than the guess of humans, and beyond the reach of measurements. I cannot jump my horse over this fence, but she finds for us a way. A mob is sending battalions to catch us. But we are far above now, clothed by the forest. My horse and I jump and fly through the canopy, invisible to the eyes of the enemy.



image source: public domain

The Language of Shaping

I dreamt that I opened a homeless shelter for runaway teenagers and dispossessed young adults in downtown Fresno, California. We transformed an old factory building, with those picturesque old glass block factory windows, into a safe house of refuge and welcome for young people in crisis. When the people were ready to leave, they left empowered by good food, deep rest and a clean, upright mind. Angels walked the hallways and isles between beds and desks, leaving tracks of luminescent pigments of greens, purples and golds. How beautiful it was.

In those dreams I spoke that language too, the first language, and I had dominion over the nature of all that was real. In my dream, it was the tongue of what is, and anything spoken in it becomes real, because nothing said in that language can be a lie. It is the most basic building brick of everything. In my dreams I have used that language to heal the sick and to fly; once I dreamed I kept a perfect little bed-and-breakfast by the seaside, and to everyone who came to stay with me I would say, in that tongue, “Be whole,” and they would become whole, not be broken people, not any longer, because I had spoken the language of shaping.” –Neil Gaiman, The Ocean at the End of the Lane



image source: public domain

It Has Never Been Discovered or Mapped

The following dream has been excavated from an old dream journal, dreamt sometime in 2008, and 17 or 18.


Wandering over the mountains, a hidden part of the Sierra Nevadas of California that nobody knows about and has never been discovered or mapped. Towards the east there are people robed in white and singing, and the pink light of dawn is enveloping the people in haloes. They are singing the sunrise into Creation.



image source: public domain

Two Dreams From 2007

These two dreams, excavated from an old dream journal, I dreamt sometime in 2007, when I was aged 16 or 17.


The desert is endless in all directions. I drag my feet forward, increasingly hopeless, but a sparkle of bright blue catches my eye. It is a pool of water beneath a sudden spring. I look into the water, and at the bottom is an astounding mosaic, many tiles of colors forming the image of a mermaid. The water is singing. I go in, and I am refreshed.


I am in a ditch of crocodiles, trapped and surrounded. The sides are too steep to escape. They are about to kill me, when my fist transforms into a ball of iron spikes, and I am filled with courage. As the reptiles’ jaws lock around my fist I destroy them each, and find the power to jump out of the ditch.


Image source: public domain

Two Dreams from 2006

These two dreams, excavated from an old dream journal, I dreamt sometime in 2006, when I was aged 15 or 16.


At the end of a long canyon trail is a mysterious phone booth. *0 takes me to the edge of the known universe.


I am dueling with candlesticks. I go up against a man with a sharp metal sword who tries to overtake me, but he is stayed by my candlestick, which glows at the wick and will not break. It is no ordinary rose-colored wax. With this light I fight and defeat him.


Image source: public domain

A Dream from 2005

This dream, excavated from an old dream journal, I dreamt sometime in 2005, when I was aged 14 or 15.


A hoard of angry people shove into a shopping center late at night, pushing their way under sickly false, flickering lights. I know I must bring the good words to help save them.

“I’m gonna lay down my sword and shield
down by the river side!” 

By singing these words I coax the people outside with my song, where the dawn washes over their faces, at last, curing their minds of much sickness.


Image © the family of Gentle J. Pine. All rights reserved.

Last Peaceful Place

Written age 11, December 15th, 2001

I was walking along the river one day
When the sky turned dark and drifted away.
I saw the pigeons flock about
and swam away did all the trout.

I smelt the grasses, sweet and mild,
And heard the call of all the wild.
The wind so quickly swept over me
As if I were by the sea.

I felt the coolness of the air,
The river running fresh and bare.
Taste the sweetness of the honey,
Saw the rabbits, cute and funny.

The stars were winking strange but great
And I thought to myself, “what is my fate?”
Lost about here in this secret bend,
Will there ever be an end?

The moon looked down upon my face
Giving me comfort in this last peaceful place.
Will all this be here still someday?
Or will it all have gone away…

December 2001, age 11



Image © Gentle J. Pine. All rights reserved.

Rainbow World

Written when I was age 9, July 30th 1999


As I rode upon the horizon
I look up and see,
a golden leaf falling
and a redwood tree for me.

Over the green wide rolling hills
in the fresh air so free,
the blue sky as light as paint
and the bright purple flowers
so cute they make me faint.

As I look around and see a rainbow,
yes a rainbow world for me!
Then I think, “yeah,” a rainbow,
what else could it be.


We all have our own hands,
but together we create life’s body,
This universe!

That’s the end!




Images © the family of Gentle J. Pine. All rights reserved.