I had a dream about a little stiff-legged dog made of small colored pieces - a curve of white pipe, snips of sheet metal, bits of plastic suspended in the air somehow. All that stuff runs clattering to an intersection where several cars screech to a halt from all sides. Suddenly there's this gust of wind. It forms an eddy - the kind you see in the city sometimes that makes Styrofoam peanuts jump in a stuttering spiral, and then dance their way up the street.
The eddy hits the dog and it is snapped apart. The pieces aren't light enough to move in the wind, so it becomes a scattering of unconnected bits on the ground . . . I think "Maybe this dream is meant to help me let things go . . ." Then, I immediately picture those little bits on the ground and I think, "Hey, I can do something with those . . ."
When I was young I would encounter powerful objects and feel they represented an interesting life. At first I went around looking for meaningful objects as if they were talismans that would make my life wonderful, imparting something otherwise out of reach. Now I've come to understand they mean something as a result of the life that leads to them.
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