Osprey, Mono Lake © Robert Sommers 2023

Friday, December 18, 2015

dream sequence - birdman

Sacrada Familia in paper, Barcelona

Another strange dream last night. I was driving my van west on the interstate forty from New Mexico into Arizona, right past the funky tourist stop with the cheesy teepees.

Suddenly there was a flash of lightning. My car mysteriously morphed into a low slung vehicle, my field of vision was now just higher than the road, which had somehow turned to a rough dirt track and scrub.

I was careening through the desert, somehow now on the south side of the interstate, at a much too high rate of speed. I was out of control. I would soon crash.

Navajo bodies appeared in a conclave below me. At terminal velocity I had somehow pitched the car and shoulders pinioned to my side, was flying about forty feet above the crowd as if by magic.

Most of the natives were unaware of my invisible presence but the elders looked into the sky and I felt a hint of recognition. The next thing I know I was in a parking lot being queried by a large tribal cop with a  billy club. He wanted me to repeat some pointless phrase for a recording device. I whiled my way out of my predicament somehow and was eventually released. The rest of the dream blurs out and I soon awoke.

I love flying dreams, they definitely invigorate my soul. Think maybe I made contact.

1 comment:

Victoria Roberts Art Assemblage said...

...the intro to the next David Lynch movie