Interpreting Dreams

Yesterday morning, on the back porch, with Yasmin and Bella the dog, under cold gray skies, Yasmin and I exchange dreams, not our hopes and dreams for this life of ours, at least not this morning, but rather the dreams we each had whilst slumbering the night before.

I had once thought the word, 'whilst', to be a word lost in antiquity-- Shakespearean-- but many English people still use it. I like to use it on occasion, when feeling poetic.
But I digress.

Yasmin's dream was about a pile of dung, with a key in the pile, which she had retrieved despite the dung. I believe there is much symbolism in this dream, and a lesson. We must all dig in the dung to get the key. More importantly, the key is there; we will not dig in the dung in vain.
We must dig with determined delight in the dung.
Dogs dig with determined delight in the dung, darn it!
And even without a key!
So why shouldn't we?
We must gleefully grope in the guano to get what's good.
We must shovel through shite, plow through poop, claw through crap with conviction, to get that key.

'Shite', by the way, is also a word used in England.
It almost sounds polite.
That's right,
shite. 

My dream, however, was not so full of wisdom.

I was in Egypt, Cairo I think, because there was chaos. I was in the middle of a very large room, very crowded; a train station. I was looking for a toilet, and, as if conjured up in a dream, a toilet appeared. It was also in the middle of the large, crowded room, however, and exposed, so I did not use it. I simply could not have a shite under such conditions.
Instead, I caught the train.
Though there is no train from Cairo to Port Said, I was on such a train in my dream, and it ran along the Suez Canal. I was on the Sinai side, which is all desert, but I could not see the desert because I was looking out the window facing west, over the canal, where there is some green, and palm trees because of the Nile Delta.
"I was walking there, not so long ago, going in the opposite direction," I said to myself in the dream.
And that was the end of it.

The only other dream I remember clearly, since I began walking in November of 2011, was also recently dreamt.
There was a large hot air balloon, trying to lift off from the ground, but it caught in a tree, then dislodged itself, then it was caught in yet another tree, then finally, as it became airborne, it was struck by lightning, and it fell to the ground in flames.
In the basket of the hot air balloon was a monkey, which perished in the flames.
I was horrified. 

I felt that this dream had some significance, and I consulted two people who I knew would be happy to interpret the dream; Sara and Francesca, who are both mystical friends of mine in the north of Italy.
Sara Floating Cloud, as I sometimes refer to her, was the first one I consulted.
Her interpretation was that the crashing balloon represented the end of a long journey, but only for a while. The monkey represented the exotic places I was heading for. Hmmmm, yes...
Francesca interpreted the dream differently. The crashing balloon was the end of a long journey, but as it crashed in flames, there will be a new beginning, like a Phoenix rising out of the ashes. And the monkey? That was someone who I was supposed to be travelling with. Hmmmm, indeed...
Or perhaps, I am the monkey?
Hmmmmm, I wonder...

If the reader would like to have a go at interpreting my dream, then please do. 
Clearly the balloon represented my long journey, and the trees and the crashing in flames the stopping of that journey. I tend to see the flames as a good thing also, a new beginning.
But the monkey...
a symbol of exotic places?
a travel buddy with whom I am no longer traveling with?
me?
someone, something else?

And the new beginning, a rising from the ashes...
As posted a few days ago, whilst reading the signs in the sky, three doves, or possibly pigeons flew by. My interpretation was peace, and new beginnings in Belgium, as they had been flying in that direction, but couldn't they have meant new beginnings for me as well? And for you? Why only good things for Belgians? Haven't they already got enough good things, like chocolate and beer, and Belgian waffles? (Though Belgian waffles are really a Brooklyn thing; have you ever seen the film, 'Blue in the Face? I digress...) Yes, I think those doves or pigeons, whilst flying from east to west that fateful morning, must have been spreading not only dove or pigeon shite, but peace and new beginnings for all in their flight path.

An aside: as doves represent peace and new beginnings, you dove hunters should stop trying to blast them out of the air with your semi-automatic, 12 gauge scatter guns ( I say 'trying' because I understand a dove is difficult to down, even with such a weapon, but I digress); and you, city dwellers, as even pigeons represent peace and new beginnings, according to a reliable source, Ask.com, you city dwellers should stop referring to these harbingers of peace and fulfilled dreams as 'rats with wings', and stop poisoning them because of their poo.
Take heed hunters and city dwellers, when you cull these
feathery, cooing, and yes,
frequently pooing birds,
you may be killing your own inner calm and finding yourself in the same old rut. Change your perspective, hunter, and find satisfaction in the mere sighting of your former quarry as a successful hunt for peace and new beginnings.  Change your perspective, city dweller, and see pigeon poop as peace poop, and rejoice when it hits your shoulder.

Let us move on.

This morning on the back porch, there is scud scudding across the scuddy sky, scudding from right to left, that is, from west to east. In the east the sky is very dark, ominous, somewhere over Jülich and Düren, as if to mourn for those who were whisked away to their deaths a lifetime ago, and for those who had let the others be whisked away, or even took them away, and who later lost everything they had if not their lives when those cities were reduced to rubble; and also for those who fought over the rubble, still referring to them by their names, the names of cities, though they were but rubble.

But I will not dwell in a maudlin way today on the past. Of course, Jülich and Düren are once again bustling cities.

It is also very windy, in this enclave of homes and back porches, so I know it is a virtual gale in the fields, and the wind turbines will be turning vigorously, and the smoke from the coal-fueled power plant will be billowing horizontally. 

Meanwhile, Bella stands on the small lawn wondering what to do with herself, because the grass is wet, and she doesn't like wet grass. If it were dry, she would be frolicking about.

And again, meanwhile, despite the scuddy skies above, and the dark and ominous skies to the east, I am feeling sunny.

Also, yet again, meanwhile, Elke is back from Switzerland.

Here is Elke:

Sorry, wrong photo, that is Audrey Hepburn. But it's not so far off. I'll try again:

Yes, that is Elke.

Finally, I would like to share a poem with you that I have written. It is in both German and English:

Die nacht nackt knocked on meine tür,
unt I answered it, 
though it was dunkel, like a krebsgeschwür.

"Would you like tanzen mit me, in die dunkleheit, sir?"
it asked, whilst I replied,
"As you are nackt, natürlich, Ich werde for sure."