Dreams, Lions, Dad

Well that was interesting. I dreamed that I walked out onto a level landscape, though there were trees dotted here and there. There was a kind of low but spreading greenery with slightly bobbly leaves everywhere, and here and there I noticed scat, so I knew something lived here. I walked, to find myself suddenly on what I can only describe as a mini-cliff. and nearly bumped straight into a sleeping lion.  He was very skinny and surprised, his cubs less so; they leapt up to examine the stranger, and I had wit enough to turn and run, not from the cubs, who were adorable, but from their elders who might be interested too. Sure enough, other members of the pride had woken, young not-quite-cubs, slightly smaller than adults but having no mane as yet. I leapt and ran to the sounds of other humans making surprised noises, while the young lions ran around absolutely certain there was something to chase here somewhere. There were no screams; those other humans were safe enough, as was I, once basically out of the den. There was no fear in my dream, only happiness - theirs and mine -  and a basic idea of survival. It was a fun dream.

We got a contact the other day from one of our safari group members which is why I reckon I dreamed of lions.How happy they were in Chobe, in Savuti, in Moremi! How much better life is with lions in it!  Endearing memories, a cub chasing birds across the landscape, his mother close by. Vultures staring down at said cub balefully, with a real look of  'If your mother wasn't such a big shot around here...'
But the little cub could laugh, knowing she was a big shot, so the vultures could dream and wait. All the world can wait. There's death everywhere and life everywhere too. It's very beautiful.





The close up of the cub on the kill is larians photo, the other two are among my many attempts at capturing their casual magnificence.

My father died just over a year ago, on the 2nd. I think they told me on the 4th, so this,to me feels like the anniversary. Must reset my understanding.

Pythagoras had this theory about the reincarnation of souls. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Metempsychosis I kind of like it...Dad might not have been the most perfect human being, but he'd be a magnificent lion in the wilds of Africa.  There now, that's a fine story.

The Rose

I wrote this and then wandered out,feeling a bit strange.

How it grew without soil or sunlight
only the riverbed knew
swordlike beneath the ripples
its flower spilled fragrant silver
Because of the cold and deep
none stretched hands to the rose
though swans wove it into their nest
and the briar guarded their children

At twilight, the blooms
startled marshfrogs into singing
Of a river stained like fire
Of a bed where the sun slept
little knowing that their music
and the gold light on their skin
was born of an exile
fallen in a swamp

It occurred to me to phone Bro, but then,if he has forgotten the anniversary maybe that's a good thing. No point bringing him down.

Last year, my neighbour bought me a rose to commemorate Dad, a rambling rose of the 'seagull' variety, which,with his love of seas and travelling and islands, is perfect for him.It bloomed well this summer.

Today I went to the local church to leave a candle for him, because who knows and why not? But it was locked. Outside the church door was a trolley with some faded plants in it and a note pinned on, saying, 'Help Yourself.' One was a rose, an 'Allisar, princess of phoenicia,', based on the legend of Ellisar who tricked her way out of a tyranny, wandered the seas with her followers and founded Carthage.  It felt like a link between us, oceans and travellers,  so I brought it home.