I met my spirit animal last night
in a dream. I guess that is what I am doing here in Wisconsin, coming far
enough north to meet the polar vortex so I can feel its spirit when I sleep.
It was a strange dream, as most
are, but it was also a dream within a dream.
The surface dream had me outdoors
running with a crowd of people through woods and open fields in the hills. I
came to realize that some of the people were agitated and getting worked up to
do violence.
Then I fell into my sub-surface
dream where I was in a small village of wooden cabins. Staring out the window,
I saw a large polar bear come into the tiny cluster of shacks. I remember
feeling afraid because the animal was very large and it could easily eat me.
It walked away but I was now
aware that being outdoors was not safe as long as this animal was around. I
walked outside anyway and it returned.
I was very fearful because I was
certain I could not make it back to the safety of the cabin once the bear
attacked me. I sensed that it was aware of my presence but it chose to ignore
me, or maybe it just decided to coexist with me.
It was gone and a grey haired
woman with a bowl-shaped hair cut stood on the unpainted porch of an adjacent
building. It was a souvenir shop.
I told her about the bear and she
said it was The Spirit Bear and it was everywhere, all the time.
A young woman, whom I somehow
knew was the old woman, took my ethereal form into another room and showed me
my spiritual chart on a green chalkboard. She said there was a spike in my
chart.
The diagram looked like petals of
a flower drawn by a child. From the right side of a crude circle were two lines
arcing to the right. There was a dotted line in the middle like it was a
highway.
She took a reading and determined
the length of my life. I can remember feeling relieved to find it would not be
short as she led me back to the other room where the old lady was giving
instructions to my physical form. She was inviting me to a gathering later in
the evening.
Then I was back in the fields
with the crowd. I came to realize it was a religious retreat. Half of us were
mesmerized by the gaze of a man passing by on a train. A horn sounded and those
of us who were hypnotized raised our arms straight up in the air.
We started walking towards the
other half of our group, the people who had become agitated. As we interspersed
with the others, we put our arms around them.
I was excited to see who I was
chosen to hug. It was a woman in her thirties with short brown hair. She was
talking nonstop about the history of the Indians in this area. I was delighted
because history is my favorite subject.
I was certain I knew more than
she but I enjoyed hearing her talk as I began leading her by the hand to a
special spot in the woods, down by a creek. It was a place I knew she would
love because Indians had camped there and there were many artifacts to be
found.
Along the way, we met my
girlfriend. I gave her a hug and we kissed. She had another woman with her and
had instructions for more rituals to be completed before we went to tonight’s
event.
We each swallowed two pills and
washed them down with water from tiny bottles. Then we took out our wallets to
have our credit cards blessed but I couldn’t find mine.
The brown-haired woman with me
was now a young girl with wild jet-black hair and she was asking if I knew
anything about Africa. She became a young man and he asked me if I knew where
Gaanz was and then if I knew the Swahili word for instant mashed potatoes.
Then I was walking up a hill with
my girlfriend towards a large building that was some sort of resort hotel.
Inside was a multiracial gathering of about forty couples. The hosts alluded to
a surprise that was coming but first we all had to watch an instructional video
on a large screen TV.
The video began with porn and
then morphed into commercials for soda and soap products. A Facebook post
popped into my mind and I found myself agreeing with it. It was posted by a
tango instructor and it cautioned young people about porn, likening it to
unrealistic expectations as to when the plumber will arrive.
I went and sat down, bored by the
presentation and wise to the true intent of the meeting: using sex to sell us
time-sharing or some other ruse to get our money.
My girlfriend and I got in our
car and drove away. She was driving. I told her we could join the swingers if
she wanted but she just grumbled something that I took for, “maybe if I was
younger.”
I tried to get a clarification on
what she said but that just darkened her mood. I tried to change the subject
but accidently chose a related topic and dug the hole deeper. It was going to
be a long ride so I woke up.
For more of the Kayak Hombre, read my book Fear of Intimacy and the Tango Cure or River Tango. Available on Amazon.com in paperback or Kindle.
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