My Indian Boy

I had the most amazing wet dream the night after I learned my head surgery had been postponed for two weeks. I was scared to death, and I thought I was going under the knife the next morning, but when I was told I had two more weeks, I was so greatly relieved. That night in my dream I was walking by myself in an untamed landscape. I was in a grassy meadow with woods all around. It was a warm, sunny summer day. There was no indication of civilization anywhere. No signs that people were anywhere around. It felt good to be there, peaceful. I felt free. Then I saw a nearly naked, slim, slightly toned young man coming toward me. He only wore a headband and a loincloth. He was Native American with brown skin and long black hair. We began walking toward one another. It seemed we knew each other. And when we were close enough to touch, he put his arms around me and lifted me into the air. I felt so loved by him, so totally accepted. That’s when I experienced the most powerful sense of release in my life. I’ll never forget that dream. I don’t know who the Indian boy was, but I think he was a representation of early ancestors reminding me of the simple joys of being alive, of having a body and living on this planet. For so long I had been depressed, so distracted by questions of meaning and self-worth. The Indian boy was telling me I didn’t have to understand life to appreciate it and enjoy it.