Day Thirty-Six: The House of Dreams

The treehouse construction plan was already completed. Today, I only needed to follow the scheme I devised last night. Since my design called for two levels, I had to ensure the lower level was at least one meter eighty in height—I had no desire to bump my head.

What I wanted most now was nails, though it was just wishful thinking; it wasn’t realistic. To secure the small trees at about one meter eighty, I stood on several small logs laid out as makeshift steps, hoisting the longest of the small trees onto my shoulder.

Using vines, I wrapped them around the big tree, tying the large trunk and the end of the small tree together. For reinforcement, I used three vines, winding them again and again until they were bound tightly. When I tugged at the binding, it held firm.

Then, I fixed the other end using the same method between two large trees. Once I grasped the technique, the work became much more efficient. Four of the longest small trees were securely tied to the big trees, connecting them together. The initial framework was taking shape; the four small trees formed a sort of trapezoid, not perfectly regular, but it didn’t matter to me.

The next step was the most critical: laying the second floor and constructing the walls. As I began, many problems arose—it was clear that my previous plan was nothing more than theoretical. The small trees varied in length, so when laid across the beams of the big trees, they were uneven and chaotic, which frustrated me.

Without a saw, I couldn’t cut them perfectly, but fortunately, I devised a solution. I laid the shorter small trees on both sides, gradually placing them toward the center according to their length, aligning their ends to keep them flush. Once finished, I was pleasantly surprised—the protruding tips formed a fan-shaped platform, perfect for a balcony.

Excited, I climbed up. Later, I would construct a ladder from small trees on this fan-shaped platform, making it easier to move between levels. I jumped a few times on the upper platform, forgetting that I hadn’t yet secured the small trees to the beams with vines.

The result was predictable. As the small trees rolled, I tumbled down, landing flat on my back with a heavy thud—painful, but fortunately, nothing serious. After a moment’s rest and a dusting off, I got up and resumed work.

The progress on the little house was about one-fifth complete. Before finishing, I had no intention of searching for food; hunger and thirst could be dealt with by eating a few fruits.

The supply of small trees was dwindling rapidly—I used up a sixth just covering half the platform. To finish, I would have to seek out more small trees, which wouldn’t be easy.

I didn’t cover the entire upper level; I left about fifty centimeters open, not to save materials, but to allow convenient access between floors. On rainy days, I didn’t want to go outside to come in.

Patiently, I used vines to bind the small trees together, checking and reinforcing them repeatedly until they were tightly joined. I suspected even a typical typhoon would be powerless against their sturdy construction.

For the walls, I used small trees again, though this step was much more exhausting than the previous ones—truly taxing. I needed to dig holes, each at least twenty centimeters deep, for every small tree. Only at this depth could I stand the small trees upright along the beams.

Following my usual method, I pressed each small tree closely into its hole, covered it with soil, and tamped it down firmly. Then, I bound them securely to the beams with vines, winding the vines in an S-shape to tie every small tree destined to become a wall.

By the time I finished all the walls, the sun was already tilting westward. The house’s basic shape was fully formed; I was close to success. Except for the roof—I had run out of materials—there were no other problems. Once I found more small trees, I could finish my treehouse.

Today, I wouldn’t have time; I had already nearly exhausted the supply of fallen small trees nearby.

As I paused, fatigue overwhelmed me. Building a house was no easy feat—I was nearly spent. While working, excitement masked the exhaustion, but now that I stopped, my body protested loudly.

Well, time to rest.

But no sooner had I lain down than my stomach began rumbling, and a chain reaction followed. All sorts of delicious foods appeared in my mind, impossible to shake away, making my hunger even more acute.

I sighed, reflecting to myself, “Being human really is tough!”

With no choice and some daylight left, I decided to try my luck at the seaside.

Little Black had disappeared long ago, off foraging on his own once he saw me busy—no need to worry about him.

The sunset blazed like fire. After tossing a pile of firewood onto the bonfire, I made my way toward the shore. Hunger now fully suppressed my fatigue.

Disappointingly, the tide hadn’t receded, so the little octopus I wanted was out of reach.

Frustrated, I sat down, sprawled out on the sand, and, perhaps from sheer exhaustion, drifted off to sleep...

...

“Ptu, ptu!” I woke up!

“Damn it!” My face was covered in sand; I spat out a mouthful of grit, sand filled my nose and eyes. Furious, I thought Little Black was playing a prank and sat up quickly, rubbing my eyes to look ahead.

“Uh!” My exclamation was a mix of surprise and astonishment!

Night had fallen, but under the moonlight, I could see everything before me clearly.

No one could have predicted that I would stumble upon such luck. If anyone saw me now, they’d see a look of greed on my face.

Sea turtles—many sea turtles—were digging in the sand, their hind legs vigorously scraping it away. I could clearly see the nearest turtle, its tail swaying as it laid eggs the size of ping pong balls, each one covered with sand as soon as it was laid.

All around me were turtles, utterly unconcerned by my presence.

Unable to restrain my hunger any longer, I grabbed my Swiss army knife from my pocket and lunged at a turtle.

Faced with food, I couldn’t think of anything else; food was the most basic guarantee of survival.

This one weighed at least thirty pounds, more than enough for me and Little Black for two days.

To lighten the load, I dressed it at the shore, taking only the four legs back.

I also scooped up a handful of freshly laid, still soft turtle eggs, and hurried back to the treehouse.