Country air soft with sunset
and new-mown hay makes each breath delicious
and life more awesome.

The world always held great wonder when seen from treetops,
     hilltops,
          or rooftops.

Barn roof were a favorite aerie.
To sit in the cupola I could see for miles
across the miles of farmscapes of the county
until the outlines blurred in the soft haze of summer.

I could look down through the roof from the perch of pigeons and sparrows
on my hay and straw playground of the loft.
Beams and ropes offered the chance to swing
            and fly
                        and jump
and to teeter on the precipice of thick wood beams
smoothed by years of cradling hay.
Under the soft, green surface were secret rooms
and tunnels I had formed of hay bale building blocks. 

And tonight the roof of choice was the outdoor toilet.
Not a lofty throne or royal perch,
it would serve for a new experiment of imagination.
Cars whooshing by on the gravel road on the other side of the house
would disappear and then reappear in a swirl of dust.

Could I change reality by reducing their time of eclipse behind the house?
Would I be able to change the world by moving with the cars?
Straddling the peak of the roof I would start at the edge nearest to the oncoming car.
On the eight-foot length of the roof I would scamper backwards rapidly
and the cars would receive an extra second of my reality. 

One car-reality required one too many scampers.
NINE feet backwards and nine feet DOWN!!!
Thud!!  A flash of blue-white light! Breathless!!!
I mean breath-less!!!
Had life stopped?
There was heartbeat.
And dull pain.
Wandering around the farmyard
gasping for breath
the cows would not give advice or counsel.

Finally, breath...and life!

The spirals giggled.  

"He's the one?  This is the one who will tell our stories and sing our songs?" 

"He is yet a child and does foolish things.  Still he knows how to play with his mind and live in his heart," said the Dreamkeeper. 

"But he will become an adult.  Isn't that when humans lose their powers? 

"Usually, but we are hoping he can grow into manhood without completing losing his awareness of his child-powers.  Grandmother and grandfather spirits are determined to help him remember.  He is going to have quite a few surprises."

In 2003 I was told by spirit to plan a teaching journey across the USA. After a bit of whining and complaining about the immensity of the task, I planned and organized a 90-day workshop series from west to eastcoast and back again. On the return leg of my journey I stopped at a little metaphysical shop between Dallas and Fort Worth, Texas to show our dream-catchers and drums. In chatting with the young woman and her husband, I mentioned Minnesota as one of the places where I had lived. She recalled a dream she had had of looking through the eyes of a man in the 1950's from the top of a barn overlooking the Minnesota countryside. She hadn't even been born yet; she was probably born 25-30 years later. What she described was what I had seen from my rooftop aerie.

The spirals giggled and danced.

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White Eagle Soaring: Dream Dancer of the 7th Fire