A bird's eye view

Last night I had a dream. I am a bird but still cannot figure out what kind of bird. I guess it is all up to interpretation. I quickly jotted down my thoughts in my dream journal and still cannot decide. It has turned into a riddle of my mind and my dreams.

I am a bird in a faraway place. I am feral and regal and proud. I have ancestors that have spanned the ages through the times of dinosaurs, the times of king and queens, the times of dictators and wars, the times of drugs and free love, and have lived through it all and survived. I am prehistoric, I am a part of history. I know this in my mind and thoughts and understand that the world belongs to me because I conquer the skies above it. If there is catastrophe or danger on land I can escape and fly away. I have seen humans and other animals die in volcanic eruptions, earthquakes, fire, tornadoes and hurricanes. I can fly away from it all and for this reason I fear nothing. Nothing except the gun of a hunter. My fear: a loud blast, gunshot sound and I can imagine the feeling of a hot sharp piece of metal shredding my body, the instant pain like a white light and then falling falling until I hit the ground or darkness. I sometimes wish for the first because the next fear would be to survive but wait on the ground until other animals would find me. Then I would become theirs to do what they want to my strong body, my beautiful feathers, all of what God gave to me and made me who I am.

At night in the cold darkness, I can see the forest lit up with small animals. My prey, my food. They fear me as I can swoop down and capture anything that fancies my attention. My eyes dart from side to side and in the deep recess of my mind I can smell a small mouse very very far away. I can smell the fear in that mouse and I know that he belongs to me. I am primative. I am brutal. I am nature pure raw real.

In my life I have always known, my feathers gleam and shine. My beak is razor sharp. My talons are strong and needle pointed. I breathe in deep and feel the cold clear air permeate my lungs , my feathered chest fills to capacity and my wings arch. I am standing perched on a tall mountain high high above a beautiful valley. The sun is just coming up over the horizon and day in its new beginning, a fresh start, an innocence is in the air and it belongs to me. I command the world and I feel like I am the king of the land.

Time seems to stop as I edge up on my talons, my wings span and spread as far as they can reach, I take a deep breath, close my eyes and lean lean into the air over the edge, falling falling then snap, my wings take hold of the thin cool air and the muscles and tendons in them grab hold of gravity, up and down my wings seem to go effortlessly, this is what I am made of. Fluid movement, gliding gliding. My wings stop every now and then and I just float. I am content more than anything at this very moment doing what I am meant to do. I see the world below me the animals the plants the humans and I am free free to fly and glide and breathe and be. This is my world. I am a bird, I am free and I am at one with God at this very moment.

hmmmm, putting my dream to paper didnt really help...still cant figure it out- I could have been an eagle or a sparrow but in the dream it was my eyes looking through a birds eye view. The dream was real and vivid and a bit scary. But seeing the world through something as free as a bird made me add one more thing on my list of things to do before I die: learn to fly a small plane! Wow