I held tight to a dream this morning to assess it: figure out what it means. I found myself at a gathering of Indian women, having climbed up winding stairs to a room where they had gathered and were getting dressed in regalia.
My regalia was at home, and I was chagrined: I didn’t realize we were supposed to have our regalia, and while I was thinking this, a hand-crafted bag with beaded details flew from a chair and stuck to my back. One of the women walked over to me and gently told me that I needed my outfit, and I apologized, and then said the bag had found me.
She took the bag and a few moments later another garment flew through the room and landed on my back. So the woman began gathering clothing for me to wear, and I told her I was Osage. Oh, she said, and mentioned a man’s name who was also Osage. Then the men began to arrive, and a few lads came over to introduce themselves, cuffing one another like boys in a story.
And then I woke.
I’ve decided not to interpret the dream, but rather, let it take its own gentle time to tell me what it means.