For years I would dream about a little, tiny, baby bird. The bird was sick and it was so small that it just wasn't going to make it. It would fall over and lay there on the ground and I'd try to keep it alive but I didn't know how to. I hated that dream. And when I awoke from it, I always knew that the bird symbolized some part of me. It was a helpless feeling, one that weighed heavily on me.
About two years ago I was walking up a hill near my house when I heard a car's brakes screech, followed by a thump, up around the corner. A moment later I rounded the corner to find a bird laying in the street. It looked dead. I walked up to it and peered down. It blinked back. I wondered if it had broken its back when it was struck. Was it paralyzed? I spoke gently to it, and after a minute one of its wings flapped feebly. So it wasn't paralyzed, but merely stunned.
Another car drove up, slowed, and gently cruised around us as I waved it by.
Minutes went by. Then, the bird suddenly flapped one wing very hard and skidded across the pavement. I followed. Now it was in the middle of the street. Another car drove up, stopped, then slowly cruised around us. I continued to talk to the bird, trying to soothe it. More minutes went by. Then, the bird flapped both its wings frenetically, and it slid farther long the pavement, into the gutter opposite where it had been hit. It was regaining its bearings.
Yet another car drove up, and I waved it around.
A woman walked up and asked me what I was doing. I explained. Together we watched the bird, and after some back and forth, she decided she'd pick it up and bring it home. But when she reached down to pick the bird up, it stood up and flew away, landing on a wall a few feet away.
"That was very kind of you, to watch over that bird," she said.
I wanted to say to her, "Believe me, I had no choice. That bird was ME. I HAD to save it!" But instead, I said nothing.
As I walked home, I kept thinking about what had just happened. I'd saved the bird. I'd saved the bird! It had all happened so perfectly. I'd arrived at the scene of the accident just at the right moment, and then protected the bird from getting run over. And then the bird had regained its senses and flown away - free, and whole, at last!
I have not dreamed about the baby bird since.
About two years ago I was walking up a hill near my house when I heard a car's brakes screech, followed by a thump, up around the corner. A moment later I rounded the corner to find a bird laying in the street. It looked dead. I walked up to it and peered down. It blinked back. I wondered if it had broken its back when it was struck. Was it paralyzed? I spoke gently to it, and after a minute one of its wings flapped feebly. So it wasn't paralyzed, but merely stunned.
Another car drove up, slowed, and gently cruised around us as I waved it by.
Minutes went by. Then, the bird suddenly flapped one wing very hard and skidded across the pavement. I followed. Now it was in the middle of the street. Another car drove up, stopped, then slowly cruised around us. I continued to talk to the bird, trying to soothe it. More minutes went by. Then, the bird flapped both its wings frenetically, and it slid farther long the pavement, into the gutter opposite where it had been hit. It was regaining its bearings.
Yet another car drove up, and I waved it around.
A woman walked up and asked me what I was doing. I explained. Together we watched the bird, and after some back and forth, she decided she'd pick it up and bring it home. But when she reached down to pick the bird up, it stood up and flew away, landing on a wall a few feet away.
"That was very kind of you, to watch over that bird," she said.
I wanted to say to her, "Believe me, I had no choice. That bird was ME. I HAD to save it!" But instead, I said nothing.
As I walked home, I kept thinking about what had just happened. I'd saved the bird. I'd saved the bird! It had all happened so perfectly. I'd arrived at the scene of the accident just at the right moment, and then protected the bird from getting run over. And then the bird had regained its senses and flown away - free, and whole, at last!
I have not dreamed about the baby bird since.
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