MikeyG and i are staying at a camp of some kind? A bed and breakfast or maybe it's my great-grandparents farm. A house with several outbuildings. We’re inside the house getting ready to go to sleep. There’s a baby owl in the room. Mike shows me that he put up a ceramic feeder that’s shaped like an owl and put some disc-like pellets inside of it. The feeder seems odd to me because instead of the owl facing out into the room, the back is facing out and the face is turned to the wall. The baby owl is so fluffy and cute, about the size of a cantaloupe. I want to hold it. I take a pellet out of the feeder and hold it out to the baby owl and it flies over and takes it from me. Mike’s already asleep so i turn off the light and get in the bed too. I wake up during the night (inside the dream) to check the owl and i see that it’s inside the feeder asleep and realize it’s not just a feeder, it’s actually a bird house. I notice that the pellet food sits on a little shelf-like rim inside the bird house and feel glad that the owl can eat as much as it wants. As i watch, the bird puffs out its feathers and settles in to go to sleep and it seems like it’s smiling. Now it’s morning and Mike and i are talking about the owl and i’m telling him about what i saw during the night. We go outside the house and there are several large birds of different varieties – they’re as big as geese but they’re not geese. One looks like a bluebird but gigantic. Another one is maybe a dodo bird. One is an adult owl. They come up to me and i pet them. They’re very soft and i like the feel when i bury my hands deep into their feathers. Mike talks about how he wants to keep the baby owl as a pet and i relate something i’d read about how owls don’t do well as pets because you have to feed them a lot of mice. Just as i’m saying that, a bat swoops by my head and as i duck and look down i see a lot of mice running around on the ground and think that maybe, since there are plenty of mice and bats (bats = flying mice?) the baby owl will CHOOSE to stay. We go back into the house. Mike has a clear plastic contraption of some sort that he puts on a small table by the door. It’s got water in it. As soon as he sets it down the baby owl flies over and drinks from it and i realize that’s what it’s for.
I’m in a large open room filled with man-made walls – like booths i guess. A convention center? I’m helping a bunch of women with their exhibit. It’s separate works of art combined on a single wall to make an even larger painting. Each of the individual pieces are hung at angles and the empty space between has to be painted. I’m helping to paint one of the empty spaces. It’s not difficult but i’m having difficulty for some reason. I’m painting the space (not a very big space) a kind of rosy red color. It’s hard to paint because my brush is a lip gloss applicator and it’s lip gloss that i’m painting on the wall so it takes a lot of coats. Luckily i only have a very small bit to paint and finally finish. I stand back from the wall to admire the strangely hung paintings with the space between. One of the ladies is painting a larger bare space with shiny copper. Another lady is trimming edge of a frame while another lady is working beside her painting the bare space with shining silver. One of the pictures on the bottom right of the wall is a hand stitched piece that reminds me of a cross-stitched “Home Sweet Home” type of thing but when i look at the words i can’t read them because they’re a different language. It’s then that i realize all of the ladies are old Orthodox Greek women and i wonder if it’s a Greek Festival. ? Then i go to another booth and it’s my work place. As i’m walking to get to my desk i drop my pen. It’s a “click” pen and it hits the floor right on the clicker thing on top and disappears. As i stare, startled, Shirley says something about it and i turn to her and say “You saw that?!” She asks what happened to it and i tell her that i don’t know, it just disappeared but that kind of thing happens to me all the time. I go back to where the Greek women are still working on painting the spaces between pictures to see if my pen is there. I see my pen on the ground but when i pick it up realize it’s not my pen, but another pen. I leave it there and go back to my desk. I tell Shirley that i went over to the wall because i thought maybe the pen had returned to the “past” and it might be over there but it wasn’t the right pen. She laughs and asks me what i’ll do. I open my desk drawer and pull out a blue Paper Mate type pen (separate cap) and tell her that my click pen will come back up eventually.
I’m in a large open room filled with man-made walls – like booths i guess. A convention center? I’m helping a bunch of women with their exhibit. It’s separate works of art combined on a single wall to make an even larger painting. Each of the individual pieces are hung at angles and the empty space between has to be painted. I’m helping to paint one of the empty spaces. It’s not difficult but i’m having difficulty for some reason. I’m painting the space (not a very big space) a kind of rosy red color. It’s hard to paint because my brush is a lip gloss applicator and it’s lip gloss that i’m painting on the wall so it takes a lot of coats. Luckily i only have a very small bit to paint and finally finish. I stand back from the wall to admire the strangely hung paintings with the space between. One of the ladies is painting a larger bare space with shiny copper. Another lady is trimming edge of a frame while another lady is working beside her painting the bare space with shining silver. One of the pictures on the bottom right of the wall is a hand stitched piece that reminds me of a cross-stitched “Home Sweet Home” type of thing but when i look at the words i can’t read them because they’re a different language. It’s then that i realize all of the ladies are old Orthodox Greek women and i wonder if it’s a Greek Festival. ? Then i go to another booth and it’s my work place. As i’m walking to get to my desk i drop my pen. It’s a “click” pen and it hits the floor right on the clicker thing on top and disappears. As i stare, startled, Shirley says something about it and i turn to her and say “You saw that?!” She asks what happened to it and i tell her that i don’t know, it just disappeared but that kind of thing happens to me all the time. I go back to where the Greek women are still working on painting the spaces between pictures to see if my pen is there. I see my pen on the ground but when i pick it up realize it’s not my pen, but another pen. I leave it there and go back to my desk. I tell Shirley that i went over to the wall because i thought maybe the pen had returned to the “past” and it might be over there but it wasn’t the right pen. She laughs and asks me what i’ll do. I open my desk drawer and pull out a blue Paper Mate type pen (separate cap) and tell her that my click pen will come back up eventually.
I loved the owl dream! When the bat swooped me and i ducked in the dream it seemed to real. The mice were fat and sleek and healthy looking. When the pen hit the floor and disappeared it made a kind of "popping" sound and there was a ?flash. Not a flash of light, but a flash that was like how high heat makes the air look wavy. Lip gloss. ?
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