Learning to Fly: chris_walsh

This wasn't a funny dream. In fact, one scene in it made it a point not to be funny, as I was sitting in some warehouse in an industrial part of dream-Portland surrounded by milling people working on projects, and I was under the impression I needed to tell some of the people there a funny story, and I started telling a story, and I realized it wasn't funny at all. Other people I know, and who I know are funny (creative, too), were there, like David Walker of the book Darius Logan: Super Justice Force, who was in the same warehouse working on an action scene for a film. Also at one point I headed down a stairwell into a basement restaurant where the Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom version of Thuggees were prepared to do no good, but it turned out that if I kept going down the stairs in one direction, I'd keep arriving in that restaurant, but earlier, thus avoiding the Thuggees and not likely to be killed or enslaved. I accepted all this and went on. Dreams are like that.

And by doing that, I was rewarded with a beauty moment.

Having gotten out of the time-travel vortex of that basement restaurant -- no, I don't know how -- I got to fly over dream-Portland. Some sort of ultra-light, one-person flying vehicle that almost didn't seem to be there, but which got me aloft almost noiselessly in the dusk-colored sky. I flew towards one of several, several formations of geese, a formation flying north over the Willamette, and I was impressed with the regularity of the formation. Then I saw that it wasn't just geese. At the head of the formation, the goose that would lead the formation was itself being led.

By a bald eagle. The eagle was just above and ahead of it, pumping its gigantic wings and shielding the goose, at times leaning its head down and gently, somehow gently, guiding it with its beak. Then the bald eagle split off from the formation, and the geese kept flying, and I thought They'll probably bank away from me now, and they did -- the bald eagle one way, upward in fact, and the few dozen geese banking away from me. I accepted that -- it tends to be good to accept what's happening in a dream -- and banked away as well, flying my way as they flew theirs.

Things like that happen when I accept my dreams.

Learning to Fly

For the last day of 2024:

Sitting

Somehow, Twenty Years

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