A Man and His Dog

I had a very odd yet comforting dream about 3.45 this morning. I was sitting in what would be a back living room or TV room in what felt like a 50s to 60s era house. The walls were darkly paneled and I was sitting in a recliner. Beside me was was my dog with lots of grey hair, content in his old age. The sliding glass doors to the yard were open and a warm breeze was flowing in billowing the curtains silently and softly. I could smell the outside and I walked out onto a small concrete patio. The sun had that blinding freshness to it that springtime has sometimes. I could see the houses on either side, the lawn was a vibrant green, and everything was perfectly quiet in a serene and calming way. He was standing beside me and everything felt so absolutely immediate. I felt completely and utterly present and the moment seemed to last in a weird sense of "arrival" as if this was the moment I had been moving towards my whole life. I understood the past and how it helped propel me to the exact moment on that back patio, and it all felt so right and comfortable. Almost like wrapping it all up around me like a nice blanket. My dog looked up at me as if to say, "Yup. This is where it's all supposed to be, and it's just you and me sharing it and we don't need any words to understand what it means."

It was such a powerful (only word I can think of, even though it's way overused!) image that even now it brings a lump up in my throat thinking about and feeling how profoundly serene it was.