The alarm went off and I heard the ringing of the Tibetan singing bowl like always, as if it was miles away on a snow covered cliff somewhere. That is a pretty thought and I have it almost every morning when the alarm chimes, snowy mountain cliffs and a little puff of smoke from the fire in the cabin. By the time my phone had chimed a few times I rolled over, grabbed the phone, clicked the button and laid it back down on the bedside table. After a few more minutes of groggy thoughts I sat up on the edge of the bed and looked around.

My wife and three year-old were snuggled up to each other, with the three year-old dominating the middle of the bed as usual. My wife was on the extreme other side of the king-sized bed, beyond my arm length, I am positive the three year-old does that part on purpose.

I got up and headed to the bathroom to shave my head, gliding the blade over my scalp and face I silently recited the Om Mani Padme Hum, if I don’t my mind will wander and I will end up thinking about work or anything else but being there and shaving my head. I have had too many conversations completely in my head for my own good. Once my head is smooth and shiny I lit a stick of incense and turn on the shower.

After I am clean and good-smelly, I dress in the closet and then quietly leave with out waking the wife or the three year-old, just a kiss on my wife’s cheek and then I am gone.

In the garage I’m accosted by my cat, Guru. He is lonely and hungry and wanting a conversation before I leave again. He gets some petting, a scratch between his ears and a bowl of fresh water and food. I leave him to his food and I head out. He teaches me something new every day.

The day is dark gray and rainy. Water flows quickly down the sides of the street and my wipers struggle to keep the windshield clean, and then, through the rain a truck is in front of me, I see the driver and he sees me; too late.

I realize I am not in the car now, but rather standing beside my car, I can see someone is still inside; someone is in the driver’s seat. He looks like me, but somehow different, somehow less than me. The smell of hot metal and plastic is everywhere. Gas and oil mixes on the street causing a rainbow of colors on the water as the rain quickly washed it all to the grass covered ditch.

The driver of the truck is moving his head now and I tell him everything will be OK, just to relax, I can hear the sirens already, we will be fine. My hands are shaking violently and there is sweat on my forehead.

Then, all too fast the fire engine is here and men pour out of the red beast. They race to the truck, and then to what is left of the car. For a moment one of the men looks at me, and then past me, he looks in to the woods and then someone yells for him to help them. He looks back to me, but can not find me. I am no longer there.

I walk out of the bathroom.

My wife looks up, startled that I am standing there beside the bed again, smiles at me.

“I thought you were gone,” she says half asleep still.

My hands are calm, my brow is dry.

“I am.”

Sometimes I am mindful of falling asleep, aware of the various stages as I slip into the other realms of consciousness. A few nights ago I was lying in bed, I had a large pillow beneath my knees and my hands were laid to my side. I was breathing deeply, thoughtfully. Breathe out to the count of four, breathe in to the count of four, out to the count of four, in to the count of four; over and over again until I stopped counting and let that happen as it would.

I was having a conversation with some one about something and I suddenly realized it was not real, it was something that could not be happening as I was laying in bed beside my wife as she slept quietly. So I slid back up the consciousness scale to remember I am there, lying in bed with my knees on a pillow to support my legs and the small of my back. The conversation was lost to me, only knowing that I had been speaking to someone and that it was a dream was left now.

My eyes fluttered open for a moment and then they closed themselves again, down the rabbit hole.

I stand on the wooden deck of a great old ship; the kind that pirates sail into the rough seas looking for adventure and freedom. It’s dark, middle of the night dark, with low clouds on the waters as we list and roll over the waves.Ropes hang from the mast and the sails, rigging to and fro in every direction it seems as I walk down the middle of the bough. I am alone on the deck, and that is odd to me even here, in my dream. Everything is either wet or has the feel of moisture through and through. In the dimness of the cloud covered night the only light above deck comes from a few hanging lanterns as they flicker, their wicks trimmed to conserve oil in the heart of the night.

Something catches my eye, in the rigging above the sterncastle there is movement. I make my way up the ladder to find out what or who is moving from rope to rope, hoping to find nothing.

Nothing finds me first though, and in this case, Nothing is something horrible.

She stands taller than I can grasp at first. Her chest is covered with colorless feathers while the skin on her arms and face are darkly tanned and cracked.

“No fear,” she sings out effortlessly and with love. She beckons to me, asking for me to come closer, to her protection, to her warmth and love.

My feet guide me and I am happy to be near her, in her aura of protection.

Her left wing opens to reveal her breast; shapely and supple. Strange feelings stir in my gut: desire, hunger and motherly tenderness all at once.

I find myself against her, suckling at her. Warmth and light flow in to my body; I am free, I am secure and home and in love and lost and found, all at once. In an instant I am these things.

She bends my body backwards, supporting my weight on her arms, it is nothing for her. I can feel the strength in her grip and I am happy for it. Safe, secure.

My body starts to transform, I am becoming like her. Wings are growing from my back, a new found strength is coursing in my veins. My muscles becoming like stone and iron with each drink I pull in to my mouth.

And then her look changes, something in her eyes shows me sorrow and pain. She is torn, upset that she is about to ruin my world. Her face distorts and hardens, she is no longer the beautiful woman-bird, but now, suddenly a wrathful demon of red eyes and sharp beak.

She bites in to my stomach, eating my insides as I try to drink in the last drops from her chest. Her eating my flesh is not to bother me, but losing the nectar, that is catastrophe.

And then I am awake. Lying in bed beside my wife, wondering at my dream.