The Cat and the Salamander
Last night I had a dream that did not hit me until 2:30 the next day. When I woke up in the morning I had that funny feeling of knowing, but not quite grasping what it was that I knew. I felt the knowledge weigh upon me, its heavy hands grasping my shoulders, but I could not quite see properly what it was.
But as I said, the knowledge did finally show me its face. It jumped from behind my back where it had followed me around and made itself known to me in the form of a lovely little symbol story.
As the symbol story came to me, I remembered that my dream was of a cat and a salamander. The cat was lovely and auburn brown with blackened stripes. It was a pretty little creature, soft and alluring, yet dangerously sad. It would have none of any encouragement, and as much as it complained that it was not understood, any advancement toward the understanding of the sweet creature was deterred by its seeming refusal to be known. So as the cat pranced inside of this elusive paradox, I became exhausted by my advances to catch it. For some reason, I wanted nothing more than to love it, to hold it, to know it. The ordeal was exhausting. The cat spoke to me and called to me, but as I tried to reach back, the little sad cat skirted from my advances. I felt frustrated in that my love for it was unequal to its reciprocation. The time I spent chasing it became emotionally draining.
So then, in my weariness, I finally sat down.
I sat and I looked up at the clear blue sky and I realized I had not noticed what a beautiful day it was. And as I sat, a little black salamander came to me. He was happy and sweet and suddenly I knew that he had been with me the whole time even as I exhausted myself in chasing the cat. I felt in my heart that some piece of me had been waiting for him. I felt silly now that I had even run after the cat in the first place. Finally, I opened my palms and let the smiling salamander crawl into them. Smiling, I felt more peaceful and fulfilled than I ever had been.
And suddenly the tears that had wet my lashes and graced my cheeks were dried by the sun as I threw back my head and laughed.
But as I said, the knowledge did finally show me its face. It jumped from behind my back where it had followed me around and made itself known to me in the form of a lovely little symbol story.
As the symbol story came to me, I remembered that my dream was of a cat and a salamander. The cat was lovely and auburn brown with blackened stripes. It was a pretty little creature, soft and alluring, yet dangerously sad. It would have none of any encouragement, and as much as it complained that it was not understood, any advancement toward the understanding of the sweet creature was deterred by its seeming refusal to be known. So as the cat pranced inside of this elusive paradox, I became exhausted by my advances to catch it. For some reason, I wanted nothing more than to love it, to hold it, to know it. The ordeal was exhausting. The cat spoke to me and called to me, but as I tried to reach back, the little sad cat skirted from my advances. I felt frustrated in that my love for it was unequal to its reciprocation. The time I spent chasing it became emotionally draining.
So then, in my weariness, I finally sat down.
I sat and I looked up at the clear blue sky and I realized I had not noticed what a beautiful day it was. And as I sat, a little black salamander came to me. He was happy and sweet and suddenly I knew that he had been with me the whole time even as I exhausted myself in chasing the cat. I felt in my heart that some piece of me had been waiting for him. I felt silly now that I had even run after the cat in the first place. Finally, I opened my palms and let the smiling salamander crawl into them. Smiling, I felt more peaceful and fulfilled than I ever had been.
And suddenly the tears that had wet my lashes and graced my cheeks were dried by the sun as I threw back my head and laughed.
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