Symbol Of Friendship, 9/1/83

Lucid, I walk into a garage and turn the corner at a large packing crate. "What a bunch of baggage!" I think, then recall my pre-dream intent. I ask the dream for a "symbol of friendship, old and new."

As I leave the garage, my right hand feels as though I'm pulling a little red wagon. This must be the symbol for my old style of friendship. It seems much too childish for me now. I try to release the wagon mentally, but it's hard to let go. Finally, I do it.

I walk out to a front yard composed of grass and pavement. What a stark contrast to the pastel multi-colors overhead! Bands of lavender, green and blue share the sky with wisps of white.

A white butterfly form flits in from my left. When it comes closer I realize it must be a dove. I hold out my wrist, but it doesn't land. It flies off and then returns, but still doesn't land. The third time I know it won't. The dove seems to be urging me upward instead. I decide it would be better for me to try to go to it, even if the effort causes the dream to end.

Spontaneously I start singing. "Birds in the skies..." Like a movie musical, a soft melody comes up as my background accompaniment, while I lift slowly into the sky. Dozens of white birds flutter about, some single, some in twos. As I rise, I see a pair on my left.

I reach out and catch one of them and cradle it with my left hand. The white puff ball is so very fragile, soft and small. The rest of my body seems to disappear, like some forgotten memory.

"Birds...my eyes," I finish my song. I know that single, double or in a group, birds are my symbol for a new view of friends, a wider perspective in a clear atmosphere.