In a car which I had borrowed from my father, my friend Donna and I had traveled from Ohio to an area in Canada, just north of Washington state. We arrived on a sandy beach, with the Pacific Ocean spread before us. We had a blue vinyl two-man tent which we intended to set up on the beach.

***

Carrying my sleeping bag, I had wandered off by myself into a wooded area, where I spread out the bag and lay down on my back among the trees and shrubs. As I looked up at the trees, I noticed something sitting on one branch. I had to stare for a while before I figured out I was looking at a large downy baby hawk and its mother. The baby was cream-colored, while the mother was chestnut-brown. Suddenly the mother bent over the baby and took the whole head of the baby in her mouth. Once the mother had a firm grip of her baby, she suddenly slung the baby up into the air. I was startled when the baby landed just a few centimeters from my stomach, on my left.

I figured out that the mother was trying to teach the baby to fly. The mother hadn't seen me lying on the ground. As the baby now struggled to gain its feet, I could see the mother had now discovered my presence. She starred menacingly down at me and I starred back at her sharp beak and claws. What should I do? If she attacked, she could rip me to pieces. As she slowly began moving toward me from branch to branch, I gingerly pulled the sleeping bag over my head.

The crisis began to abate. I could still see what was going on. The mother seemed to be directing the baby hawk and gradually the baby began making its way back to the mother. Finally, when the baby reached the mother and they were at a safe distance from me, I pulled the sleeping bag from me and looked more closely at them. Now I could see the mother wasn't alone; another large hawk – apparently the father – was sitting on a branch next to the mother, while the baby still struggled in the underbrush. I quietly gathered my sleeping bag and made my exit.

***

Donna and I were in the car, heading back toward Ohio. We had paid a fee for our camping spot to reserve it; we intended to return later to actually camp. Meanwhile, I planned to drive over 3,000 kilometers back to Ohio, where I would pick up my own car, and than return to the camping area. I could envision my car, a vintage 1950s model red and white car in excellent condition; I would be glad to be driving my own car instead of my father's. I hoped Donna would like my car.

Dream Epics Home Page

Copyright 2011 by luciddreamer2k@gmail.com