“Dream Momma, The dream always begins the same way. I am flying high above my home seeking my soul mate among the land of sunshine and romance. I am flying very fast, looking down on the curved coastline of the Gulf of Mexico to the wild swamps of the Everglades. It is very cold and I smell the sea mixed with the pungent smell of bayous swirling up from the unspoiled land. My heart beats in anticipation as I fly past the magnificent Thousand Islands where I arc gracefully towards the vast waters of Lake Okeechobee towards Central Florida’s horse farms, a place destiny calls me to. Drawn to the coastline I fly back. The sun is high overhead and the brilliant shafts of light thrusting upward off the turquoise waters blind me at times. A lone pelican appears and begins a lazy circle around me but is no match for my speed. I smell lush vegetation and look down to see the swamps of Cypress Park and I know it must be summer although I am still very cold. Sanibel, Fort Meyers, then St. Petersburg speed by. Soon I see the sheltered waters of Tampa Bay, the broad shallow water seem endless as I begin my descent. My home is now spread out below me, the quilted land of horse farms and the ranches the size of some small countries, move rapidly towards me. I see the borders of trees and rivers framing the pastures and begin to smell the rich soil and lush grasses. I am no longer cold and as I draw nearer to the land I sense danger and seek a tall tree to hide within.” (sic)
At last a poet has written to Dream Momma. What is she to make of this? The dreamer does not identify him or herself at all. DM cannot tell if this is an anthropomorphized bird or a real person who can dream-fly so she has a request from the dreamer so she can help him, her or it. Please tell me a little more, especially some basic facts (gender, age, or species) and a wee bit of background. OK?
Meanwhile, this is a dream of
