The other night I woke up with a dream image; it was a plastic bag or a basin full of bones in liquid. I knew they were the bones of a large bird, and I felt that they must be swan bones.
I've had a thing about swans since childhood. When I was growing up in Baltimore, we used to go ice skating on a frozen stream, and there were often swans there that I loved seeing. I also fell in love as a young ballerina with Swan Lake. And then there was the story of The Ugly Duckling. Who among us hasn't felt as though we didn't fit in?
After sitting with the dream image for a while, I had the thought that one possible meaning was that I am about to embark on a new phase. Tomorrow is my last chemo, and when I recover from that, I will be considering how to put my life back together. This past 8 or 9 months has been a kind of spiritual dismemberment. Maybe the dream is showing me that I need to reassemble the bones and reanimate them. And not in the same way, not back to some old sense of "normal." There is no normal now, not for me, not for any of us. What will life be like moving on, especially taking into account all the uncertainties?
So, this poem came: