The weather has turned unbelievably cold. North Wind has set up shop; the temperatures hover around -20C and silent Snow covers the ground.
The Wind chimes sometimes catch in a wee draught from North Wind. The sound is fragile...like crystalline tunes heard in a dream...
One cannot walk anywhere outside in the Snow in silence. It sounds very like shards of glass breaking underfoot; the crunching of footfalls in the dry Snow travels far.
I dreamt, early this morning, of Snow and Ice...and dance. The Snow and Ice cannot be deemed unusual, what with every Tree, Shrub and Field covered with the white stuff. But the dance...
In my dream, I am walking through a silent, ghostly forested area. Snow hangs low from Cedar branches which look as if they could break and shatter from the weight and cold.
I feel a sense of urgency...and yet, I do not know where my destination lies.
It is night time, but the path I follow is lit by the silvery light of a full Moon. Snow lies everywhere, reflecting Moon's twinkling rays in crystals of Ice.
I'm not aware of the beauty here; I am completely intent on reaching a wee Log cabin situated in the far distance. Smoke issues forth from a small chimney...a welcoming sight, indeed.
The cold does not bother me, although it appears I have very little clothing covering my body. I notice, as I quickly near the end of the forested path, a necklace of Feathers hanging from a long, icy Cedar Branch.
I snatch these off the branch...and in so doing, I release a shower of Snowflakes, which twinkle and glisten in the ivory light as they descend, like dancing Fairies, ever so soft and slow, to the ground.
I do not comprehend, in my hurried state, why the Feather necklace is so important, yet I know it is.
As if the path had never been, as if the cottage was never there, I am abruptly catapulted onto an expansive, Snow-white Plateau, completely surrounded by Mountain ranges.
I am wearing the necklace now.
People...figures, at least...are dancing, more and more of them appear, as I stare across the vast Plateau. They are like shadows, like mist, swirling here and there, sometimes with ferocity and sometimes swaying softly, as a mother might with a child in her arms.
There is no colour anywhere. All is white, even the figures. The only spot of colour...vibrant, in some cases...are the necklaces of Feathers, which swirl and sway, as fluffy and light as the Snowflakes falling unabated.
I glance down at the Feathers around my neck. They are brown, a deeply, intensely rich brown.
From somewhere else, another plane, I watch myself join the dance. The necklace of brown Feathers floats and flies along with the swaying of my body, just as they do on the rest of the dancing figures.
I am the watcher and the participant, all at the same time. I watch and sense myself experiencing joy...happiness and freedom, liberation...as I dance. And then, oh, wonder! I actually allow myself to feel it, to open the arcane, mysterious well within...to become as one with the Winter Spirit.
I dance hard, in my dream. Hard and fast and furious and long...and then finally, gently swaying, like a soft breeze swirling through a stand of Willows.
And then, I hear a song. It begins as a quiet hum, builds in intensity, until it seems to consume me, originating from a magical, mystifying spot deep inside me.
I dance and sing, there on the wide, white Plateau, with the surrounding Mountains as my audience.
I am awakened by a cold nose pressed against my cheek. It is 4:30 AM; Lucky must have been concerned hearing and seeing me thrashing about in the bed. The bed covers are completely tangled.
It feels as if I am still dreaming, as I open the door and let both Dogs out into the freezing cold. It is utterly still...not even the traffic on the highway far below shatters the hush.
But, as in my dream, it is bright white outside. I would have no trouble walking about and finding my way.
I look towards the path at the bottom of the hill. It is so like the one I followed in my dream. I wonder what would happen should I choose to follow it, now, when the magic of the dream still seems a distinct part of me.
Would I find the Winter Spirit dancers? I want to dance in the cold once again. It appears, however, I would have to be dreaming, since it is unlikely my body would be able to dance as wildly and freely as it did on the Snow-blanketed Plateau.
There was no pain in my dream dance.
The song has not left me. I find myself humming it throughout the day. It has no real tune; at least, it is not a song I've remembered hearing...
Winter has arrived. The Winter Spirit does not care about dates; he comes on his own time. Being early or late really doesn't figure into things.
And I have choices. I can dither and complain about Winter's cold, I can dread it with every fibre of my being.
Or I can focus on the beauty of Winter, marvel at the crystalline cold, have anticipation filled with joy for the Christmas season...
And if I can't dance as well as I did in my dream, I can sway.
And I can sing my song...
The song given to me, in a dream, by the Winter Spirit.