Once upon a time, there lived an Oak. He was a young Oak, slender, but quite tall. His greatest wish was to grow ancient, wise, and become thick as quickly as possible, offering shade and comfort to weary travelers by obscuring the scourging Sun with his foliage. And some day--this youngster feared his own thoughts a little--he sought to become the site for a mythic sacrifice.
He even posted squirrel-eye-view photos of himself on Instagram in order to appear more imposing, tagging them #Ratatoskr to get more hits to his social-networking profile.
That was a little white lie, of course, since the only animal to ever climb him was a tiny baby squirrel. However, the latter stopped half-way up, and the only reason it climbed him in the first place was to escape a hysterically barking lemon-red basset hound.
And Time the Destroyer granted his wish. It always does.
The Oak continued to collect growth rings, each new one faster than the previous, it seemed--faster than the giggling young girls in wreaths holding hands as they danced around him, spinning, sharing his adolescent desire from the ages long gone, and spinning some more.
Or maybe it was all a dream.