Dreams of Snakes and Monkey Business

I stand on a floor of jungle leaves, watching snakes move between the tree trunks and vines and over and under and through the covered ground. I see a friend from my child hood high in the canopy above, he is pretending to be a monkey. I tell him there are hats even higher up in the very tops where the branches are thin and small. He goes higher and retrieves one of the hats, but the small limb gives way and he falls, holding the brim with both hands, he uses the hat as a gliding wing and settles down in front of me. He hands me the hat, which I take in my left hand, in my right hand I am holding a soup spoon that has a flower pattern on the handle. The spoon belonged to my mother.

Are dreams a real dimension of collected memory projected in the minds eye? A Cobra or a Monkey or the Spoon, all bring signs and clues.  I am the Spoon, feeding the snakes and the monkeys and the wolf, I feed the beasts, and rub there ears, I keep them close at all times, even when they snarl and give out low guttural growls that rattle my bones. I trust them to be true. They will not lie to me, nor will the wolf do me harm, so I look them all in the eye and do not turn away.  They are my friends.

I need the Signs and I need the Clues, I leave the threads of chemical language, the scent of my being touching the stones on the way to the  
                     
                    "Overlook"

Broken lines mark the path from home.
Ways that pass again and again,
causes left in disregard, unconsidered
and let go with out notice.
I step over and through bridges and rivers,
going beyond a point, a degree, or a stage.

I lean into the wind on the highest mound,
uncensored and unchallenged,
while allowing and letting,
and breathing deep the air of history
complete and believed.

Who among us has found the way back home by following the broken lines, back home to the safe here and now. Safe with friends gathered from  across the horizon. We all mill the kitchen floor waiting for the bread to rise, with bowl in hand we speak of children and future. We are all Spoons.