dream interpre

[mickeymousee2]

ive been trying to figure out what my dream means i had a dream that i i wa gazing out the window and a tropical bird flew to my window, as i looked in the sky i saw all of these tropical birds and fish the most beautiful sight ive ever seen can anybody help

[Dakota]

Hi Mickeymousee,

That dream sounds wonderful..magical in fact. Tropical birds are beautiful and exotic, not of the everyday ordinary. The fact that one landed on your windowsill seems to imply a welcoming or partnership of something new, creative and beautiful. And birds often represent the realm of the intellect, our highest thoughts, so seeing many of them may offer higher possibilities. Fish are related to water and the realm of deep emotions, so it seems you have been invited to explore the many and varied beauties of your mind and heart! Jump in....

[Tony Crisp]

MickeyMouse - Yes, I go alone with Dakota's insights, but I wanted to add some lovely examples:

As this occurred I had a wonderful sense of being a lovely bird that has been in some way ill all its life. This meant it never flew when the flock took flight. Instead, to deal with its own difficulty it felt feelings of not wanting to fly like the others, of not wanting to be like them and do the meaningless things they do. But with the healing came the realisation I could fly, and I took wing and joined the flock. Now I am a creature of spirit, which I have always been, and I asked the Light to help me learn the ways of ‘flying’ in the spirit. 

And this is a wonderful dream that explains the spirit of your exotic bids and fish - for a fish is a beauty from the depths of you, and in your waking life you must have felt yourself growing and having flashes of such beauty, beauty that always brings greater insight.

To quote J. B. Priestly from his book Rain Upon Godshill: ‘Just before I went to America, during the exhausting weeks when I was busy with my Time Plays, I had such a dream, and I think it left a greater impression on my mind than any experience I had ever known before, awake or in dreams, and said more to me about this life than any book I have ever read. The setting of the dream was quite simple, and owed something to the fact that not long before my wife had visited the lighthouse here at St Catherine’s to do some bird ringing. I dreamt I was standing at the top of a very high tower, alone, looking down upon myriads of birds all flying in one direction; every kind of bird was there, all the birds in the world. It was a noble sight, this vast aerial river of birds. But now in some mysterious fashion the gear was changed, and time speeded up, so that I saw generations of birds, watched them break their shells, flutter into life, mate, weaken, falter and die. Wings grew only to crumble; bodies were sleek, and then, in a flash bled and shrivelled; and death struck everywhere at every second. What was the use of all this blind struggle towards life, this eager trying of wings, this hurried mating, this flight and surge, all this gigantic meaningless effort?

As I stared down, seeming to see every creature’s ignoble little history almost at a glance, I felt sick at heart. It would be better if not one of them, if not one of us, had been born, if the struggle ceased for ever. I stood on my tower, still alone, desperately unhappy. But now the gear was changed again, and the time went faster still, and it was rushing by at such a rate, that the birds could not show any movement, but were like an enormous plain sown with feathers. But along this plain, flickering through the bodies themselves, there now passed a sort of white flame, trembling, dancing, then hurrying on; and as soon as I saw it I knew that this white flame was life itself, the very quintessence of being; and then it came to me, in a rocket burst of ecstasy, that nothing mattered, nothing could ever matter, because nothing else was real but this quivering and hurrying lambency of being. Birds, men and creatures not yet shaped and coloured, all were of no account except so far as this flame of life travelled though them. It left nothing to mourn over behind it; what I had thought was tragedy was mere emptiness or a shadow show; for now all real feeling was caught and purified and danced on ecstatically with the white flame of life. I had never before felt such deep happiness as I knew at the end of my dream of the tower and the birds.’

Tony