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Dreaming the Illusive Butterfly


© Lauri Jean Crowe

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One of my favorite books is by author Richard Bach, who is well known for his story of Jonathan Livingston Seagull. However, the book I love is his less known Illusions: Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah. My first copy was found in the Howell Carnegie Library where someone had inscribed it with a message that whoever found it should pass it on to another messiah. It wasn't a library book, just a paperback a woman named "Dorothy" chose to place there on the shelves for the taking. Within the text of Illusions is a handbook with pearls of wisdom for the reluctant one, and the quote I have often come back to from it is, "what the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls the butterfly."

Often we see an ending as simply that, and not the start of something new. We forget about the evolutionary process, and this is true even of our dreams which have the power to transform us if we heed their messages.

Prior to meeting my husband I kept having a recurring dream where a man in a cape flew with me cradled to him to far and wondrous lands. Sometimes we crossed mountains, sometimes the sea. However, the man and I would always start off at a theatre where I was bound naked on the stage and butterflies were biting at the ropes that bound me. Then, in would soar my dream man and lift me to great heights and visions.

I paid attention to this dream because it was recurrent, and also had bizarre attributes like the audience of the theatre sometimes being a bunch of blue alien beasts with clicking yellow fingernails, or a big fat grey persian cat wrapping itself about my neck. For some reason the biting butterflies never seemed all that important to me, nor its imagery, even though I have a tattoo from years prior to these dreaming of two butterflies in an armband.

Still, the marker of transformation eluded me as I focused on other aspects of the dream. Hence, I stayed the caterpillar with only one limited view in sight. In retrospect, the dream man does look like my husband, and perhaps the ropes that bound me were indicative of my holding on to a single lifestyle, the butterflies perhaps an evolution into my fears of being dependent (even if it's a voluntary interdependency) on another human being emotionally. Perhaps it is significant that the dream stopped after I

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