Last night I had a dream. I was running on a field cracked by smouldering heat. The sun was angry. I felt like a butter slowly melting as I took hurried steps. I did not know why I was running.

As I raced into the vast dry land, my eyes were met by a devastating sight, uprooted trees were clumped and scattered everywhere. I could see their faces sobbing, gasping for life. I felt an unexplainable grief. I counted them all on my mind, 182.

I did not know what urged me but I asked the trees what happened.

"They are taking us to a tree museum but we are going to die in 72 hours if they can't transfer us to a home we can breathe, eat and drink from. My grandfather suffered the same fate few years back, only 20 percent of them survived and I heard major number of them has deteriorated ever since they were relocated." An old tree answered me with a weary and defeated voice. When he was just finished answering my question, his eyes closed in farewell. Those eyes my future children won't get a chance to see.

For a minute, I felt guilty. If I did not make him talk, he might still have the strength left for him to survive until they were transferred. I was helpless. The sun was piercing my skin. The trees were slowly dying.

I'm not sure why but I continued on running. Odd thing about dreams is you do something and your intentions are unclear but seem certain. That's exactly what happened.

And then I saw a dull, box-like building. It was awfully lifeless, it was almost depressing. I entered the building and I saw people bursting with laughters, plastic bag in hands and enjoying the mindless surrounding. I saw them but they didn't see me. I thought to myself, were they able to see what I saw outside?

Feeling sad but strangely enthusiastic, I went outside. I thought what if I could paint a forest on these barren walls. Suddenly a bottle of spray paint appeared on my hand. I started painting trees on the wall. One by one. I pictured the dying trees on my mind. I draw the lines, with hunger. I was as greedy as a corporation, expanding my green forest from walls to walls.

I wasn't aware but a guard appeared from nowhere and pulled a gun on me. Clutching the bottle of paints, my feet ran without my mind knowing which direction to go. I ran and ran. And then I was back from where my dream started.

I was still running on a field cracked by smoldering heat. The sun was still angry. I still felt like a butter slowly melting as I took hasty steps. The only difference is now I know why I was running.

It was April 22nd, Earth Day. I dreamed I heard the Earth cry. When I woke up, I wrote this article.*

(Allyn May Canja is an environmental advocate who supports the Save 182 movement. She hopes to visit Baguio and see the pine trees in their natural home. She also loves trees and wishes to be a guerilla artist one day. E-mail: This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it )