Birds of Bethesda Terrace

Here's a carved panel from Bethesda Terrace in NYC's Central Park.  I wish we had public art like this in Eugene because these panels pictured most likely have allegorical meanings (possibly of Spring), but the vibrancy and verdantcy of the design and the delight in the details is the main impression.  I like over-the-top Art Deco gods and goddesses with their social-industrial declarations, but there's something refreshing about a flock of birds going about their business in spiraling, intertwined branches.

Unfortunately, if these were in Eugene they'd probably be graffitied over in a heartbeat.

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This morning's tarot reading was four out of five reversed major trumps. The gist was to ground inner dreams and visions in real word actions (seven of cups), and to use appropriate force at the appropriate time (Temperance reversed is the reading's obstacle).  Probably today is a day to take a moment to understand things beyond their surface (High Priestess reversed).

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Lots of strange dreams last night--they took on an "X Files" feel, with continuing episodes of paranormal investigation:  In one, I was flying around and two talking parrots were confused that I could fly and asked me what kind of bird I was.  This led to a discussion of using my flying power for something useful instead of just flying around.  

In another dream, a cartoon Mr. Burns (who was particularly yellow) was simultaneously a live-action person and a cartoon and an opera diva ... who was singing a vaguely Spanish aria (?about loving a bull-fighter). The live-action board of trustees stood in a line on the stge Mr. Burns (? Mr Burnettita?) sang on -- by this time Mr. Burns had sprouted ten arms, and was waving each theatrically as he/she sang (one on the brow, one held out, one reaching out to a lover...).  

There was some sort of shift and the opera performance shifted to a slow, German ground/lament.  I think there was a scene change.  

In a final dream, I was with some Reed College friends at a beach, and we were looking a new craze where one slid down a sand dune on bare feet (sort of like skiing only with no skis and over sand), over a small ramp, and if you hit the air right just over water, your bare feet would hydrofoil along the surf. 

A bunch of us swooshed down the sand, hit the surf, and -- amid jets of water springing up from our feet like a manta's wings -- managed to get spectacularly far along the shoreline.