I’ve heard it said that dreaming is the mind’s way of making sense of things it can’t figure out in more linear ways, so it weaves vivid and surreal movies that you get to watch and sometimes star in. But they are cloaked in mystery, like private screenings you step into blindfolded, and then can’t remember where it took place.
I often dream of flying. I don’t know why, but when I can recall them, I am soaring high above the world and slipping through the clouds, feeling the sun and wind move over my face like a child’s fingers.
Lately I began to wonder if my fascination with birds is somehow linked to my dreams. Birds get to fly in the light. I can only do it in the dark.
I’ve been doing this semi-regular series I call “Favorite Birds” where I pull images from recent outings and group them together. I have so many of them it’s crazy. I never set out to become “the bird guy” but I find so many in my wanderings and they never cease to captivate and amaze me, I mean…they can FLY.