The faeries have a message for me. I am not sure what it is. They visit me in dreams, both awake and asleep. They influence decisions with tiny little nudges from the lithe winged bodies. Not all of them have wings. All of them are, however, benevolently mischievous. This is their way. I accept that. My acceptance may be the cause for their population of my life. Despite that acceptance they can cause a terrible confusion, a whirlwind of excitement with hidden messages, a path to walk along without knowing where you are going. This is why I have begun these journals. They have a message for me, a destination, a game. Hopefully, these will help in my deciphering.
The faeries have sequestered me in the middle of the woods without much person to person human contact. This isolated cabin is a between place, a place that faeries dwell like the area that the creek becomes the land, the ocean becomes the shore, the treetop becomes the sky, the flower becomes the pollen, or for my own example the moment between one destination and another. They ran me from town to town with their carrots and sticks and slaps in the backside when I was stubborn to here. They are giving me guidance, but it is elusive.
