Yesterday, late afternoon, the clouds parted over the hills, and more fresh blue skies and light poured down on us. The earth became a lush vivid green, which sat beautifully next to the sky blues above. However my attention was on neither the earth nor the sky, but on the wonderful shapes and textures of the clouds drifting by. These fluffy cumulus clouds, with their curving path leading out across the sky, were calling to me. The urge to float up onto this soft white street and to follow it out, onwards towards the horizon was strong, but alas my wings haven’t grown yet, and so I had to be content to dreaming from the shore. All sorts of shapes began to reveal themselves to me as I lay back and watched from a sun warmed rock, lapped by the gentle waves. To the left you might make out the purple hare chasing two of its young, racing over the top of my cloud bank.
Formed from water, but as light as air, clouds are dreams made real, drifting across our awareness. You can divine futures, not just the weather, from the shapes which reveal themselves to our eyes. Whole dream worlds exist on the tops of flying clouds, and if you lie back and watch you never know what you might see. Cherubs and angels, cloud fairies and sky dragons, cloud wolves and dogs all call this transitional space home. There is plenty of room and energy for change up here in the clear blue air, new patterns and shapes are formed on the whim of a breeze as the weather blows across. If you let your thoughts become like clouds they too will shift and drift, in and out of awareness. Set them free to run over cloud hills and glens, and to form and dissolve freely, and your thoughts might become dreams, and those dreams might become real.
The dogs had had enough of cloud dreams, and they wanted some fresh sweet water to drink, so we followed the little burn which flows down to join the sea here. All they needed was to find a way down the steep banks, which they thought I might be able to follow. But my attention had turned back to the clouds, rolling like mist and cotton wool balls over the mountains beyond. Perhaps some raindrops from those clouds would flow down this deep blue stream, and the dogs who came after us would drink them…..