On the fence with something wild

Dear WEb,

Last night I dreamed of Phoenix again. This time he and Beetle were in the back yard of this house together. I went outside to see them. It was dusk and we all stopped in our tracks watching a squirrel right there at the fence. Beetle and Phoenix were on alert, but not moving. Then just as the squirrel jumped through a space in the fence, Phoenix and Beetle lunged toward the fence, unable to keep still any longer. The squirrel shapeshifted into a coyote as she passed through the fence and came out the other side both as coyote and squirrel. The coyote had caught the squirrel which really now seemed like a rabbit (sorry, are you keeping up?) and killed it. We all watched, and I felt grateful for her mercy killing because the rabbit was crying loudly once caught. Then the coyote turned and placed her paws on the top of the fence. Phoenix did the same from our side. Their noses were close to one another, sniffing. I watched, so in awe of this connection and exploration. I said either aloud or in my mind to Phoenix, "Good boy. You're doing so good." A few moments he would sniff closer then do a sudden quiet growl and pull back ever so slightly. I could tell he was drawn to the wildness, curious and also still on guard. It was such a sweet moment because I felt he was still alive and we were having this experience together here at this new home. All seemed magically possible and wonderful.

While I didn't wake up sad, later on the way to my dentist appointment, missing came again. And while the dentist was drilling my filling out, I took refuge in that moment with Phoenix at the fence, calling him forth from that dream to me there in the chair, saying, "You're doing so good." I don't understand why this makes me weep then or now. It does. The dream captures moments like Phoenix and I would have together when he was alive. I miss him. Will always miss him. I am grateful for the dream. It reminds me of the texture of the fabric we wove together. I pull it to my cheek and cry...and hear myself, maybe him, tell me: "You're doing so good. It so hard to be there on the fence with something so wild. Go ahead and growl. Then sniff. You're doing so good. I love you."

Me