Dream: The Knight, the Falcon, and the Colorado Food Company

This morning’s cool dream:
9:30 AM: The Knight, the Falcon, and the Colorado Food Company
I’m in Colorado. I think I’m visiting someone there – I know that I’ve driven all the way. I am visiting a food packing facility – it’s called something like Harga’s, but I think it may be a reference to Harbard, who lives in Colorado. It seems like the place is in someone’s garage, but it’s a pretty big operation – there are machines that are passing food along conveyor belts, packages of peas and other vegetables. There is some hamburger being processed too; it seems to come out of holes in a steel sheet, and form into little round patties. Someone points out the “pea crisper freezer” – I think it’s something that snap-freezes them before packaging. I notice that there are a few odd vegetables mixed up on the conveyor belt, and it worries me in case they’re mixing wheat into stuff… but it seems like they’re just parts that got cast off, and they’re not going into the packages.

Then, I’m sitting on some sort of padded bench, reminds me of sitting on the trunk of a car. I’ve got a blue blanket over me. I’m just taking a rest, and listening to some of the company people talking. One older black man is talking about how he had to compound a medication with something to mask the ammonia – it’s not the way it’s done in the rules, but the ammonia in the medication was making the man nauseous, so he put something in to mask it. It’s the kind of thing that wouldn’t happen with a big company, because they wouldn’t take the time to deal with it individually.

Now, I’m outside, sitting in a chair. I’m watching a falcon circling above the trees. There are a lot of pigeons in the trees, and he is sort of herding them back and forth, like he’s trying to line one up to stoop on. The falcon is very large, and silvery-white, and his wing feathers are fluttery, like the edges of a silk kite. I think, watching the falcon wheeling and diving, how much I enjoy watching birds fly, and how I like to think of myself flying like them. Then I notice that there is a man dressed like a white knight on horseback, also watching the falcon – the horse is standing in mid-air just below tree level, not on the ground. The falcon sees him, and it apparently makes him mad; he stoops, and snatches the man by his head, and flies away with him, horse and all. They seem to move as a piece. The falcon puts the man into the garage of a house across the street from where I am, and the garage shuts.

Krista M. is here with me. She wants to get going, she starts to walk on. I am talking to somebody about how I’m allergic to wheat, barley, rye, oats, spelt, kamut… and how I buy their food because it’s free of the things I can’t eat. I look up, and Krista is walking away… now, it’s Christina B. instead. She is walking across a big bridge. I realize that she’s too far away for me to catch up, so I fly into the air and catch up to her that way. I can fly much faster than I can walk.

I’m driving home, my trip completed. I drive along, and realize that I’ve made a turn that will keep me from going home by the same route. I am not concerned, though, because I know I can just detour through another city, and be fine. As I’m coming up to the entrance to the Interstate, another car bumps mine, but it’s just a tiny little bump, and I don’t even stop. The other car pulls into the lane beside me, and then heads on. I see on the enbankment to my left that there are huge piles of leaves; there is a sign that says “ASPEN LEAVES,” but they’re huge – like three or four feet long, and forked, like a cross between Sycamore and Mulberry. They’re yellow-brown. I think they’re supposed to be there for tourists to take home.

I get back home, and arrive at some sort of convention. There are lots of people here in a large room; there is a clear space in the center, like a dance floor. Then, I see in a smaller room off to the side that has glass windows, a man is dancing – he’s doing some sort of tap routine, but as I listen, there are too many sounds for regular taps. I look down at his feet, and he has on these bizarre tap SOCKS… they have taps on each toe, and he can roll his toes in patterns to make sounds. I’ve found a pair of shoes on a table, and I’m looking at them – they’re not the same as the tap-dancer’s, though -they make a sound as your foot moves in them. I think they’d be fun to two-step in, because if you stomp your foot they’d make a loud sound, or two sounds.

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