I had numerous dreams the other morning, but one of them struck me as being more than just a dream: I felt as though I was being told something very important, a lesson I was to learn, or message that needed to be heard. Only certain parts remain with me, but I'll try to relate them, for whatever reason.
I'm uncertain where the dream began -- they are funny like that -- but I remember that someone drove up to the farm with a huge water hauler in the back of his truck, suspiciously like the one my truck conspicuously bears, but in the tank was more than just water; this driver had dolphins.
I was horrified, yet I just happened to have a pond that I felt we could loose them in, while still wondering whether that was viable with salt-water creatures. Then I got a flash from one of the dolphins, telling me they would be OK in the pond for a while, and that they had come specifically to see me.
Into the pond we all went, except the driver of the truck. We swam around and the two dolphins - I guess there were only two of them - came up and nuzzled me and began their communications.
It seemed that they were representatives of their species, and these two had sought me out because they knew that I would be able to understand them. It was a telepathic communication, or at least somehow I understood all of their clicks and squeals and whistles, although, I more felt their voices in my mind than I understood their noises. They told me their history, which in fact was our history as well.
Many millennium ago we had been of the same species, but what would become humans migrated to the land, whereas what would become dolphins stayed in the sea. There had been a rift of some sort, a tribal spat, if you will. They viewed our move as a headstrong mistake and knew that it would eventually bring about their demise: apparently that time was at hand.
Speaking of hands, the male - they were a mated pair - put into my mind pictures that told the stories of our evolutions. He showed me the bones inside his flippers, which looked like the five fingers of a human hand, which is not just a dream invention, but also a verifiable truth. The whales, he informed me, were also relatives that stayed in the sea.
He told me that the sea was becoming uninhabitable, and that they were slowly dying. We were polluting the world to the point of their extinction, and ours, he informed me.
I held to them as they nuzzled me, their slick, smooth, rubbery skin wonderful to the touch, somehow intimate and alien at the same time. I was overcome with horror as they told their tale. The time for these two was short because they were too far from their natural habitat and they would soon die: I wept and mourned at what a horrible hand we had played. They needed to get back into the truck's water tank so they could be carried away to a better location where they might die peacefully, as the pond water was too warm and inhospitable for them. I guided them back into the tank, feeling dispirited, overwhelmed and helpless. What have we done to the world? What can I do? As they were trucked out of my driveway, I thought, "That's certainly no way to transport a dolphin."
I awoke, sort of. It was one of those nights where the dreams held me close to their bosom, and I was torn between staying and waking up.
Whew! Sorry about that bit of heaviness. Maybe someone can interpret that, although, upon reflection, it seems pretty obvious; it was fun to cuddle with dolphins, even if it was sad as well.
If there is one thing we do right as a species, it is music. Music translates across phyla, and as I get to play with my favorite band in the world this weekend, I will redouble my efforts to apply my music to heal these wounds we have created.
Responding to music is equally important. The vibrations of music unite us together, and if we share together in the positive vibes, real healing can take place. To dance to a band is the greatest gift you can give them. Give freely and often!
I'm uncertain where the dream began -- they are funny like that -- but I remember that someone drove up to the farm with a huge water hauler in the back of his truck, suspiciously like the one my truck conspicuously bears, but in the tank was more than just water; this driver had dolphins.
I was horrified, yet I just happened to have a pond that I felt we could loose them in, while still wondering whether that was viable with salt-water creatures. Then I got a flash from one of the dolphins, telling me they would be OK in the pond for a while, and that they had come specifically to see me.
Into the pond we all went, except the driver of the truck. We swam around and the two dolphins - I guess there were only two of them - came up and nuzzled me and began their communications.
It seemed that they were representatives of their species, and these two had sought me out because they knew that I would be able to understand them. It was a telepathic communication, or at least somehow I understood all of their clicks and squeals and whistles, although, I more felt their voices in my mind than I understood their noises. They told me their history, which in fact was our history as well.
Many millennium ago we had been of the same species, but what would become humans migrated to the land, whereas what would become dolphins stayed in the sea. There had been a rift of some sort, a tribal spat, if you will. They viewed our move as a headstrong mistake and knew that it would eventually bring about their demise: apparently that time was at hand.
Speaking of hands, the male - they were a mated pair - put into my mind pictures that told the stories of our evolutions. He showed me the bones inside his flippers, which looked like the five fingers of a human hand, which is not just a dream invention, but also a verifiable truth. The whales, he informed me, were also relatives that stayed in the sea.
He told me that the sea was becoming uninhabitable, and that they were slowly dying. We were polluting the world to the point of their extinction, and ours, he informed me.
I held to them as they nuzzled me, their slick, smooth, rubbery skin wonderful to the touch, somehow intimate and alien at the same time. I was overcome with horror as they told their tale. The time for these two was short because they were too far from their natural habitat and they would soon die: I wept and mourned at what a horrible hand we had played. They needed to get back into the truck's water tank so they could be carried away to a better location where they might die peacefully, as the pond water was too warm and inhospitable for them. I guided them back into the tank, feeling dispirited, overwhelmed and helpless. What have we done to the world? What can I do? As they were trucked out of my driveway, I thought, "That's certainly no way to transport a dolphin."
I awoke, sort of. It was one of those nights where the dreams held me close to their bosom, and I was torn between staying and waking up.
Whew! Sorry about that bit of heaviness. Maybe someone can interpret that, although, upon reflection, it seems pretty obvious; it was fun to cuddle with dolphins, even if it was sad as well.
If there is one thing we do right as a species, it is music. Music translates across phyla, and as I get to play with my favorite band in the world this weekend, I will redouble my efforts to apply my music to heal these wounds we have created.
Responding to music is equally important. The vibrations of music unite us together, and if we share together in the positive vibes, real healing can take place. To dance to a band is the greatest gift you can give them. Give freely and often!