Dream: The Diving Owl

Dream 20021009, 4:45 AM:

I’m in a room with Chris; it seems like a waiting room for an office, but I don’t have any sense of why we’re here. I see Mrs. S. and her two dogs; she is sitting next to a little table. The dogs are much smaller than in real life, and they are covered in huge amounts of curly shaggy hair. One is black, and the other has patterns of brown and orange and white. They are running around like crazy. I say hello to Mrs. S., and then I get down on the floor and pet the dogs. The room has white wall-to-wall low-pile carpet. The dogs are bounding all over one another, and being very playful. Chris comes over and I introduce him to Mrs. S. and the dogs, and he pets them as well.

Then, Chris and I are driving home along a stretch of country road beside a lake. An owl swoops low over the road, then lands in the road margin. Intrigued, we stop the car and check to make sure it’s all right. It is walking around the edge of the road and through one of the lanes. We get close and look at it, and can’t notice any damage. Then, without any apparent warning, the owl jumps into the water and dives. It’s gone a long time, and then reappears. I think it’s fishing. We watch it going down and back up for a while. Then, a fish swims up to the edge and sort of throws itself out onto the bank. It seems very flat, almost like how a flounder is, but it’s narrow and silver. Chris picks it up and throws it back in and it repeats the same thing, so we decide it wants to be on the bank for some reason. Maybe it’s a special kind of fish. Another similar fish does the same thing. This one reminds me of a can that has been flattened, with the round part where the top of the can would be becoming the gills. It has a texture almost like gray plastic.

Without any real noticeable change, a small party has grown up on the beach. The diving owl continues to go up and down in the water, sometimes with a fish in its beak, and everyone watches it from time to time. I feel like I’m involved in the party, although none of the people are ones that I recognize from waking life. Some are playing in the water, others on the beach. There is a house beside the beach where we are, and I go and sit on a chair on the porch. I look through a window and see Mrs. S. here. She is sitting inside, watching the beach party through a big plate glass window. There is a big wooden porch/deck on the lake side of the house, and furniture on it.

I go up on the porch, in the process squashing some dog poop with my foot. I think to myself that Mrs. S. should have people to clean her patio up. I wipe my foot, and go inside. I say hello to Mrs. S., and tell her about the diving owl. She says that we’re welcome to stay at the house, and that there is money in the bottom drawer of the blue cabinet, if we want to play poker. She says there is plenty for everyone to have some, and we can keep it so we can win. I don’t know which blue cabinet she’s talking about, and she explains where it is. It seems like I sleep; there are lots of people staying here in the house, and I share a little room with someone. I remember sitting up and pulling my shirt down over my thighs to pull on my shorts. Both shirt and shorts are light to medium blue, although they don’t match.

The party has grown again. Now, it looks like a busy day at the beach, with people with beach blankets and beach balls and towels and such, running and playing. There are hundreds of people here. I no longer feel like they are all people that I am involved with; it seems that the party is still here, just a lot of other people are too. I walk out on the beach, and I’m looking at things like tackle boxes, wondering if they are the blue cabinet. I never did get the money, and I’m thinking that if it’s outside, someone could have taken it. It seems very public here now. I look out into the water, and see that the owl is cleaning another owl with its beak, in the middle of the water. It changes, and now it’s cleaning a dog’s ears, where it was earlier the horns of another owl. Then, the owl and the dogs shift (when I look away – they don’t change when I’m watching) and they are a man and a couple of handsome dogs that remind me of collies. They are sitting on the beach. I continue looking around at all the people.

I hear someone singing, it sounds like almost a chant, but it’s a ballad with verses. It sounds like it’s in a deep harmony, but also sometimes seems like a single voice. It’s a man’s voice. I look, and see that the owl-man is sitting on a rock on a little island or a finger of the beach, it’s hard to tell. He has curly light-brown hair, it reminds me of the grayish brown plumage that he had as an owl. He is singing to a couple of children; I guess that they are his by the resemblance. The dogs are there too. I am captivated by his song, and I hear one of the children asking if he can sing a song too. I have a brief vision of someone telling me about a society where individuals had to be approved by the Bards to sing particular songs – each person would have to present the song to the Bards, and they would decide which ones each could sing. I have a feeling it somehow relates to this little family, and that perhaps the child is presenting a song to the father to see if he can sing it. I want to visit them, and I realize that the easiest and fastest way to reach them will be flying. I fly very much like a kite; it feels like I have a tether of some sort to the ground, and I spread my arms and catch the wind and fly over to where they are. There are tall thin trees here, like pines, and I have to be careful not to get tangled on them. *end*

2 replies
  1. mstical1
    mstical1 says:

    I still think

    you need to get with Steven Speilberg on some of these dreams. I heard an interview with him once where he said that ET and Jaws were both from childhood dreams. Your dreams are more fun than my real life.
    g

  2. admin
    admin says:

    Re: I still think

    My dreams are more fun than my real life, too! Although the more I learn about them, the more I realize they’re a significant part *of* my real life… let me tell you, when I can manage a really good solid lucid dream, it feels like an outdoors adventure crossed by a Virtual Reality game – they’re a serious blast.

    Lots of artists, writers, scientists, etc., have received inspiration from dreams. I want to get to the point that I’m making artwork from some of my dream stuff – I think drawing first, possibly painting later, maybe other media like sculpture at some point. The dream images are tricky to draw, though – they seem so vivid, but they don’t like to hold still for me to look at them carefully. I think some times about poetry or stories, but although I’ve done some work in those media, they just don’t “click” for me.

    I still wish I could remember the song the owl-man was singing. It was a really cool one, like a cross between a ballad and a chant, very minor key but compelling.

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