Wednesday, March 10, 2010

My Winged Visitor

It was one of those dreams. The kind upon waking from you frantically try to resume by willing yourself back to sleep. Whatever it was—the imagery, the symbolism, the sheer beauty—recapturing the lost sequence is more often than not a desperately futile endeavor. Upon totally awakening one is consumed with joy for the experience, yet crushed by sadness for it having to end.

Several nights ago I had a visitor—to say I merely had a dream doesn't do justice to the experience. As I was riding along in the front passenger seat of a car, a small bird appeared along side the vehicle, keeping perfect pace. I thought it strange that a bird should shadow a moving car so intently, as if it wanted my attention. I extended my arm outside the window, opening my hand—palm downward. As if anticipating my gesture, my feathered friend instantly clung to my knuckles. It seemed to be reveling in the joy ride—every few seconds turning its head pointedly toward me and looking directly into my eyes. Within moments I was flush with amazement! It was as though the tiny creature were trying to tell me something—or lead me somewhere. But what? And where to? Several times it flew off, drawing circles with its flight path, then—just as quickly—returned to my hovering hand.

Like most dreams, this one left me riddled with uncertainty, consigned to conjecture about its meaning. About the only thing I was certain of was its emotionally transcendent nature; I awoke from this dream with a big smile on my face.

It's been several days now, and already I feel a longing for my bird friend's presence once again. Should he—or she—return, I will plead of him to reveal more about himself. Are you the gentle reincarnation of a lost sibling? An old friend? A fleeting acquaintance I should have gotten to know better? Or have you been called upon to guide me through the next chapter of my meandering life? So many questions—so few answers.

To my mysteriously enchanting friend: be kind to me. Come to me once more. Perhaps next time you can stay just a little longer.

No comments:

Post a Comment