Diamond Lake Dream

July 30, 2011
Diamond Lake
Alpine Lakes Wilderness Area, Washington

Last night as I slept under a blanket of stars I dreamt I was tending to a hive of honeybees. An elder man was there with me, showing me with great exuberance and a bit of clumsiness how the bees work together to create combs and honey. They were all swarming and buzzing with delicious content, their little bodies glowing golden across the delicate paper hive. As I watched I realized where we were: on the beach, atop sand, by the shoreline where waves were crashing and eating the physical reality back into the deep. I wept and cried as I watched the golden bees get swallowed up by each wave, slowly sinking into cold sand. I put my hands atop the swirls of sand and could still feel, taste, and see the honeymaking lovers of life sinking gently into the dream world from whence they came. I awoke with grief pouring out my ears and heart - a great loss that was beyond my ability to control - and I was sad. I was angry at the elder man for not being more careful about his honey and his bees. The bees themselves were not disturbed by it - their delight at honeymaking gently bled into a larger form, the collective of sandland eating them and savoring each bite. Maybe the bees secretly knew they were an offering to the Mother Earth, sent home to re-sweeten the river of nectar at the heart of her veins.