The Meadow
Stephen Jason Quaver opened his eyes, yawned, and stared up and into the midsummer night’s yellow-gold glow. The area above him looked like the underside of a willow tree, umbrella-shaped with spaghetti-like branches and leaves hanging down. He blinked a few times, heard squirrels clicking noisily somewhere nearby, and felt a smooth and soft wind lick his left cheek. Beyond the rounded shape of the tree smiled a silver-blue moon that, to him, felt welcoming. No longer did he suffer from his panic attack. Now he was calm and collected. He smelled daisies and jasmine. Somewhere to his left was the serene sound of a brook and its tumbling water over sandstone rocks.
He slowly sat up and realized he was naked, except for an ivy-colored loincloth at his center. A light breeze found
