I had a dream last night. I was my small child self, and I was sitting on the screened in porch of my Grandmother’s house. I was trying to make one of those origami paper cranes out of a piece of beautiful orange paper.
My fingers just wouldn’t work. Then a voice said “Put that in my hands.” And I saw this huge disembodied hand in front of me. I put the paper in the hand and looked toward the source of it, but all I could see was a massive lower half of a body. It reminded me of the bottom half of the Lincoln monument, but only he was wearing blue jeans.
And the orange paper blurred a little like when you are looking at a million leaves on a tree, and they all sort of blend together in a weird mosaic. That’s what happened to the paper. And then, there was a crane. The hand urged me to take the crane, which I did. Only, when it was in my hand, it was the crumpled up paper again. I looked at the big empty hand and then at mine. The crumpled up paper started to morph again, and it became the crane.
So, I got up this morning to see if I remembered how to make the crane. And, I did…after all these years. I guess it just goes to show me that the Muse is there even when we forget about Her.
It got me to thinking about “Up from Eden” by Ken Wilbur. In it, he talks about a time in human history when we could not tell the difference between dreams and reality…literally. That must have been weird.
