There’s almost always “another shoe to drop” when we dream, but usually it’s internal and often happens without the dreamer’s conscious awareness.
I wrote recently about my dream of a black swan.
A few days later, my beloved husband and I were putting fresh linens on our bed together, one of those sweet companionable things long-marrieds do together, each holding two corners of a sheet and UP! it goes to catch a breeze and settle itself square on the soft bed. I told Buck about my dream.
“It’s me,” he said. “I’m your black swan. You’ll always feel my steady heart and I’ll always have your back.” We looked at one another, me on one side of the bed, he on the other. His age, turning 81 this year, between us, wings stirring. Neither of us blinked in that long moment, then Buck smiled in that slow way that starts deep in his green eyes. I smiled, too. We fluffed the sheet again and felt its cool breeze on our faces.