Dream of Flying Fish in the Market
I heard a dream of the flying fish, most marvelous dream. To get the fish back into a tank, inside the closed and padlocked doors is the goal. Forget it friend. Come out yourself. Peal away that paint. Flay yourself of the white and sticky fears and join the fish flying.
And what of Rose’s dream.
She is being visited by her complaining self, with a book of fifty pages on her head. The side of me that has promised not to complain for three weeks in word, thought or mood is poking her in the ribs. Maybe I can dislodge that book of complaints, with the help of mantra and prayer and meditation. It connects in with my intention.