Dreams, Art, Passion.

The other night I had something of a profound dream, maybe.

I know a lot of people look at dreams as random bouts of brain activity that causes a strange mix of weirdness throughout the night. This is not how I look at them. Dreams are look into our own consciousness. To me consciousness is the essence of life itself, making dreams very important to me. So when I tell you about a strange dream it is not just because I think it would be entertaining for you to read, writing my dreams down and letting your read them is a way for me to try to unravel their meaning and perhaps get a few other opinions.

So I was at home, my current home. In my room. My room in the dream is the only part of the house that is different than how the house actually is in real life. The room is actually the room I lived in when my parents first moved to East Lansing. I am in bed and there is a strange noise coming out of my closet.

Of course, I investigate. I find in the closet a bird, not a bird that I recognize or one that you would really see around the neighborhood, so of course I find that strange. The bird is hurt, its wing is injured and it is having a hard time walking. It looks up at me as if asking for help. I cannot really describe the feeling I had at this moment. It was almost like I connected with the bird as if it was a friend I had known for years I felt extremely sad about the creatures state of being. I had to help it.

I did what I could to mend its wounds and find it food from throughout the house. The creature did not act like a bird, it never got scared or tried to fight me, it let me hold it with no problem and and trusted me to help it. When I was done feeding the bird I decided I would let it go, so I took it outside.

We were sitting outside the back door to the house and I put the animal down on the steps, it then looked up at me and began to speak. It talked in a british accent and was very well spoken. I don’t remember exactly what it said but I do remember that it thanked me. He then let me pet him and stroke his beak. It was very heartfelt and I almost cried. The amount of emotion I had during this dream was intense. There was just something about that bird.

I woke up.

I have been going over this dream over and over again in my head, trying to make sense of it. I am thinking that this bird was some kind of spirit animal for me. I have been so out of tune with my spiritual side lately that it was trapped in the closet waiting for me to release it and mend its wounds. Now it is free. If that is what actually transpired then it was a very important moment.

There is a chance that I am looking to much into this. It seemed very important while I dreamt it though.

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