He always dreamed of. All of his life he could remember. Trees around just waited until he went older – they knew: there is nothing worse for a dream than the ordinary and cynicism of life. So they waited him to become like they are: sad, with broken branches and bark with flayed, quiet in the rain and tired under the sun. Time went by and he went older, lost his branches and pieces of bark (one of his branches people decided too strong and particularly annoying they just sawed off – it was very painful, but not deadly). But he still never stopped dreaming. No matter what the difficulties and bitterness happened, at any weather and in any day, his crown still full of dream, with little smile and look that rested somewhere far away and it always annoying them, the townsfolk.