Sunday night, September 6, or I should more precisely say, Monday morning wee-hours, September 7, I had a shamanic dream. It was 2:30 a.m. and I awoke with a start. I had a lucid dream in full-blown color, sound and dimension.
A long-time friend whose name is Michael and I were were walking along a street in the neighborhood, where I grew up, Hollywood, Maryland. We were walking up a slight hill on the asphalt street just talking. There were a few people out and cars driving by beneath us on a parallel road. When we reached the top of the hill, for some reason, we had parted. My friend Michael was walking down the left sidewalk outside off the street. Between him and the street were grass and bushes. I was walking still on the asphalt paved street, but on the far right, when I froze in my tracks. On my friend's side of the street, right in front of him to the right was a beautiful jaguar. He did not see it; it not see him. Michael kept on walking.
At first, I was worried about my friend Michael, then as he walked by the jaguar and down the hill, I knew that he was safe; however, more importantly I knew that the jaguar not only was not interested in him, but also did not see him. At that moment, while I was standing frozen in place, the jaguar with its beautiful spots (at first, I thought that it was a tiger, then a leopard, then I knew that, for sure, that it was a jaguar) looked up at me. It was beautiful, powerful, threatening. It began to move toward me never taking its piercing eyes off of me. I ran to a nearby tree, that was shaped like an oak, or the Tree of Life, and I began to climb to escape the jaguar. I climbed the tree to the first branch level and held on, but the jaguar came. It reached up with its great paw, grabbed my leg and pulled at me. I awoke with a start.
The dream was shamanic.
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