If my memory was correct, the woods represented primeval concerns of savagery and the struggle for survival. Forests were the haunt of thieves and witches, their hidden depths providing the ideal hiding place for the darker side in which mankind could secrete itself. I was in the land of literary psychoanalysis and for once, in this dream, I felt that I had a puzzle to solve. And silly as it seems, the thought of doing something other than sitting for endless hours in a bed that was attached to a ward that was rudderless in time, appealed to me. I had a literary task to fulfil and I seized upon it.
Although not a fairy tale, Hercules had twelve of these to perform. However, Hercules was born into such things where as I had only gone out for a Sunday morning cycle. I suspected that I would have to perform a number of feats because I had been given a variety of scenarios in which to operate. I was in a time when questioning was of no worth. To be in this world was to forget about the world of reason. I was realising that this existence was one in which there was a prerequisite to forget about an actual ‘the’, as in definite article. This world was becoming one with many possibilities and reasons for being and had been thrust into existence by the completely random nature of that thing that I was calling an accident. In a nod towards gods now gone, it was common to explain with pagan reasoning that all things happened without reason. The new Christians did not accept this as they believed that everything belonged to an ultimate design and that nothing happened without a adhering to the plan. My accident, then, could have been the result of some bad choice or action that fell short of the expected good and would lead me down the path of confusion, where redemption or damnation awaited. For good or bad, according to Christians, I was in a morality play and my soul was being tested. Even as a pain-filled, immobile target for syringes and mockery, I did not want to become an object from which others took their learning. I was over halfway through my earthly life and, barring the prophesised end of the world event, I had this rather selfish intention of doing quite a bit more; I had not come all this way for nothing. I was now in the free-flowing philosophy of the ancients and it would need a lot of luck, or a miracle in order for me to survive, and, hopefully, save whatever world I thought I was in. The woods offered ways in and I just had to follow one to see where they would lead me.