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I don’t know if any of you try to give meaning to your dreams, but it’s something I’ve done for a long time. They tell me what I’m really concerned about, or scared of, or what is troubling in my life. I’ve figured out my own symbols. This week, however was a little different. On Thursday morning I awoke at 6:30 with the sun, and knew I could go back to sleep for an hour, which I did. Times like that are usually rich in dreams. That morning I dreamed that a doll fell in front of me, it’s head broke off and started bleeding profusely, and I screamed (not out loud.) One minute later a large beautiful black and blue butterfly flew in front of me, flew around the sky, and then flew upward and out of sight. I immediately got up and told Ed that I was sure that Gil Dahl had died, and I explained the dream. Ten minutes later Catherine Dahl (Gil’s daughter) messaged me that he had died that night. I knew Gil was very sick, so he was the first person I thought of when I figured out that my dream told me that someone died. Later I realized that the “doll” was “Dahl”. That’s how my symbolism often works, using words similar to the real thing. And of course, the butterfly is a universal symbol of transition, and flying upward is the symbol of going to heaven. This is fascinating to me. I always got along with Gil, and I passed him almost daily on my bike rides in Forest Ridge, because he was always painting the fences around the community. We passed him one last time just last week. He was in the passenger seat of his daughter’s car, just coming home from Fellowship for his great grandson’s baptism. He smiled weakly and waved. Good bye Gil, I know you’re in a better place now. --Cynthia
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January 2022
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