So Tim, you weren't home last night. So you get to here about this morning's
dream:
I had another dream this morning. Another awareness. One of those asleep
but not situations. It's funny, but I have only had two dreams like this
in my entire life. The previous one had (what I thought to be) an American
Indian quality to it. Some kind of metaphor involving a flock of birds
performing a dance in the sky.
This one started with an American Indian. He was kneeling and bent over
as if in prayer. My awareness zoomed in and I could see that his hands
were cupped and he was tenderly and gently blowing into them. I became
more aware and saw that in his hands was the smallest spark. I could feel
his breath. I could feel the tenderness of his hands. I could feel his
longing. And then I could see the forest. I could feel the coldness of
the night. I began to burn. The soul of this little spark was filled. I
began to rage. It was not a rage of anger but of love.
I was only his smallest spark and to him I was everything. I knew what
I had to do. I knew he was right. And I knew he had to let me go and to
believe in me.
I love those dreams.
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