A Feather in my mouth.

Last night I had dream. I dreamt of family. Started with an ominous tone. The locality-dimly lit room, of a familiar feeling place. Two other entities (won't gave away the relationship) were there with me. Gender- male and female. Mood- same as the light, dim.

A conversation took place in the most sensible of ways-without words. The axe we used to bear for grinding-nonexistent.

An offering for me to become the student, perhaps later.

Level of intimacy-moderate. Color of the interaction, a cool blue with just a few splashes of pink and red.

In a nuanced telepathic way- I understood everything as being okay.

I went into the closet and she followed me in, after a few moments while I was buried in a pile of clothing- she began to blow dry her hair. It seemed weird, I went out.

The topic of food came up, an offer to learn a new recipe-I declined and departed.

I walked through the next door and more people appeared.

More family, some strangers, and I took a seat on a comfy couch next to a young Asian man who had bright face.

I picked up my hand to put a piece of food in my mouth and instead of food-a blue feather.

The young Asian man was laughing at me-I knew I was being pranked.

I crawled into his lap and started tickling his ribs in an attempt to match his humor-he did not laugh. I laughed very much, As the other people in the room made funny comments in an adorning fashoin, about how weird I was. The room faded.

I am blessed. I awoke to a pleasent feeling, and I begin to read into the meanings of this deep emotional dream scape. I fell back asleep.

I was in a town not far from my current local, in the parking lot of a gas station I used to frequent.

Company- once again, family-Male. Tone-blue grey. Pace-slow. Monologue from him. We sat in a truck parked at the gas pump. I was being chastised for past grievances, then told to pump fuel.

I got out and made my way around to the pump, only to realize the truck was parked so close that I couldn't even see the display of fuel pumps meter.

I got back into to the truck and tried to explain why I hadn't pumped the fuel, only to be chastised more.

He moved the truck into the same position at a different pump. When I tried to explain this, nothing sensible or even anything that resembled real words came out.

I tried to show him that he was blocking access to the fuel, and I received an intuitive message. "He's blocking communication", and at that moment he leaned to block the display of the gas pump.

In case it wasn't adequately clear, communication has always presented me with challenges.