Caterpillar Dreaming

"It seems to be every night now - the same dream. I'm a caterpillar,
crawling my way around the world, munching on the odd leaf and aspiring
to be a butterfly."

The battered transit lurched as the driver negotiated another sharp
bend on the pale moors on a drizzly Saturday morning.

"You know what Freud would say&;#8230;eh Stephen?" remarked Sarah in
sharp reply to her conversational partner in the vehicle's rear
corner.

"Something sexual by any chance?"

"Well how old are you?"

"Yes I know - I'm 19 years old, and I'm already stuck in a job I hate
whilst I watch all my friends winging their way to better paid, more
fun jobs and shagging their way around university. Yes - I guess that's
the meaning!"

"But how do you know this is really the case?" interjected a suddenly
interested voice, from the seat in front.

"What? Whether I hate my job?"

The voice's owner swung around, his arm clasping the seat and
continued, "No I mean there was this Chinese philosopher who said that
if he dreamt about being a butterfly - how did he know that he wasn't
in fact a butterfly dreaming about being him all the rest of the time?
If that was the situation in your case, you'd have nothing to worry
about!"

"John, I think after only one-year of Pure Maths at degree level you've
been sent quite mad&;#8230; In any case I'm dreaming about being a
caterpillar not a butterfly!"

"Some people, you know Buddhists and Hindus might suggest that it's
memories of a past life", added another to the newly philosophical
debate.

Sarah couldn't tolerate this level of intensity: "Stop it there! This
is far too much for a Saturday morning, especially at this time, and
it's really doing my head in!

"Stephen, believe me, university isn't as great as it might seem from
the outside and I'm sorry we're not in touch more often. But can we not
use this opportunity to just be together like before, explore a few
caves and then go for a few beers afterwards?"

Stephen laughed and replied in his best 'dj' voice, "Hey we're gonna
have a speleologytastic time mate!"

***

Down in the cave it felt great, completely right somehow. After all
this was what Stephen really enjoyed. When he rationalised to others
why he loved potholing he said it was because he had a chance to meet
again with his old friends and do something they all enjoyed. Well that
was the rational version - the reality was because it felt warm,
secure, womblike, no problems came close.

Suddenly he heard a great cracking noise, a noise so loud he felt it
through his whole body. His backpack suddenly felt like it was part of
him. Was it a cave-in? He looked around and could see no one. Where
were they?

He felt pressure on his head, "so this is what it's like to be buried
alive!" he thought would be his last thought.

Suddenly his head was strangely free of pressure, and a warm light
blinded his vision. He felt a blast of air from behind him, then
again.

He pushed the remainder of the cocoon away, flapped his young purple
wings and took to the air. He'd been in there metamorphosing a long
time and it had given plenty of time to dream. But of being a human,
how strange - it had seemed so real!