A Grayish Weathered Acorn

This morning I had a dream, what was more than a dream, it was a "sense," more than, a "feeling." It was an image of a gray acorn, the roundness, the eye-like pupil up close and the central focus of everything around it; I do not even remember what else was around or near it. The color and texture were identical to wood on the side of a barn, where the paint has long worn off, where the rain and sun had bleached out the paint, the freshness was gone. The wood looked older, drier, and worn, like the acorn. The wood was splintering and gray as if the grains of wood were peeling away.

But this was not merely an image, it was a "taste." It was a "feel." It was a"texture" in my mind. I felt it it. It was part of me. Only for an instant, maybe one second. Another time that I had an "identical impression" was when I predicted the winner of the 2009 Kentucky Derby, Mine That Bird seven hours before the race. (see this blog May 2, 2009). I remember my dream "feeling" of Mine That Bird was of a charred bird. I tasted the bird, like I tasted this acorn.

I have no idea what this "acorn" structure means or will mean. Maybe, nothing. I only wanted to record here. I have learned to pay attention to these images, senses when they come.