Having Fun Talking to Animals

Ha! What a great story, and fun to read these others too!. I took an animal communication class years ago and despite having good results, only every once in a while do I play with it. I would like to more though and really love this idea of homework Ferris mentioned ! Thanks for the reminder that they can be fun questions, not related to a problem!

I wrote this story several years back so I could remember this special moment.

Visiting Dragonflies

I had a very special council take place that makes me believe all the more that the cosmic consciousness of the Universe is very real and mischievous!

Before leaving Friday Harbor in Washington several years back, we parked the car in queue for boarding the ferry and killed time popping in and out of stores. In one fusty store I noticed a dragonfly lapel pin. It looked cheap and was priced accordingly. I might have spent the six bucks, but it clearly was not worth that or any less. Why I was drawn to reproach and hold court with this object, I can’t say. Taken slightly aback by this stitch in time my mind meandered further.

The pin made me recall a 24k gold dragonfly pendant I bought for myself long ago when I didn’t have frivolous income to spare but I splurged anyway. I wore the pendant around my neck on a fashionable ‘80’s box link gold chain when Steve and I were still a couple. Its wings meant ‘freedom’ to me and I thought maybe by wearing it I could sprout a pair for myself. (Unbeknownst to me, I was inwardly confirming our relationship was doomed.)

Dragonflies! What’s up with these dragonflies manipulating time, hijacking my attention and vexing me?

Right then I was unintentionally spooked by a future telling.

I paid mind and heeded this alert; shook hands with its ineffable presence and kept this contract to myself trusting something would follow in some fashion to explain this phantom percolating about me.

I normally don’t get strong premonitions featuring insects. I rationalized with my temporal senses. Possibly I was destined to find an unusual object d’art with a dragonfly on it that I would take home with me. The prospect felt promising; ‘retail therapy’ was simply knocking! As we stepped outside I felt grounded again. What might all this unveil?

We said goodbye to Friday Harbor and drove onto the ferry heading to Port Townsend, got a room that night and commenced the next day.

Down the road we dropped into Fred Meyer’s for provisions and again I was rubber necking another image of a dragonfly gracing an indoor banner hanging from the ceiling that dangled just above a flyer pressed between Plexiglas and framed atop a standing brass post featuring dragonfly jewelry. I privately acknowledged the specter with a wry smile; after all, we had an understanding by now. En route we landed in Fort Stevens State Park for a two night stay.

In the afternoon of the second day of camping at Fort Sevens we strung the tent trailer door open with a bungee cord while an electric heater hummed inside, indiscriminately warming incoming and outgoing air. That’s the nice thing about camping in Oregon. Most sites come with electrical hook ups and water, so whether one drives a behemoth motor home or tows a humble tent trailer; the sites are equally priced and so why not make the most of the available shore power?

Stationed there we attended drenching rains in relative obscurity given our neighbors had scrambled out breaking camp amidst thunderous cloudbursts. I was inside reading as was Ron outside, with his book and cigar hunkering under the awning and staying warm and dry in front of a propane heater.

As the clouds recessed before marching onto drier destinations, sunshine stepped in. The park was peaceful and glorious with just Ron and I plopped down in the middle of Mother Nature’s lap. Moisture on the wet varnished blacktop began steaming upward and emerald leaves on trees involuntarily waved in the breeze freshly bathed and sparkling.

At that very moment the Universe caught up with me and I let out a startled screech! Ron was not alarmed. He has heard this bark before, usually roaring from the depths of my innards during a tranquil session of cracking walnuts or planting spring flowers when I uncover mutually astonished grubs and potato bugs that hide under rocks.

Splintering the calm in our tent trailer cabin a split second before my detonating croak was the tangle of wings buzzing frantically above my head emitting a sound like a desperate fly caught in a web.

I looked up and traced two ornate dragonflies. They had ducked under the awning and jetted inside the tent trailer. One dragonfly seemed to have raced ahead of the other as though she had orders not be stopped and the other seemed exhausted by trying to catch up to dissuade her from entering and fulfilling such orders.

Both materialized; the first one looking for me.

‘You rang?’ buzzed her wings. I had no words. The other dragonfly hung onto a valence out of reach catching his breath and hissing, ‘Hey! Let’s get out of here!”

It’s not like they rudely dropped in unannounced; I believe my soul cryptically summoned them into my reality a couple of days before or possibly vice versa. I composed myself in their presence and apologized silently for greeting them like a frightened pup.

The first of the two flew in circles a couple of times, inches from the ceiling and then stopped affixed just above my head flying suspended and stationary appearing pensive.

She hovered in front of me stealing countless seconds, long enough for me to have an inner dialog and attempt a mind meld between us while I sought eye contact. That proved futile. She had me beat by several hundred compound eyes; I didn’t know on which facets to focus or interrogate. She seemed to understand my limitations.

At that moment, in another obscure science fiction worm hole dimension in space I suspected there might have been enough ‘twilight zone’ time for a protruding connector ‘thingy’ with telescoping abilities to extend from her thorax; render me zombie-fied, and affix its tip precisely on the spot on my forehead (between and just above the eyes) where East Indian women attach their glittery third eye bindees. Her arresting mission would be to penetrate my skull and download – what? – time-release pods of wisdom that I could translate into something mystically profound?

I could roll with that.

So I imagined teleported pearls of dragonfly wisdom rumbling into my head like marbles on a roulette wheel but the only thing truly rumbling was the buzz of my visitor‘s lovely laced wings right before my eyes.

I was being tested and blessed by the Universe. Yes – mesmerized, miniscule, me!

Words finally formed to break my silence and I pronounced out loud, enough for Ron to hear, as we were both delighted by their ‘surprise – wink, wink – visit’,

‘Hello beautiful One!’

Ron snickered outside.

A couple of seconds later our time would be up. She hovered just a bit longer and ostensibly gave me a slow salute with a forewing. Then she skillfully backed up in a straight line traversing about a yard, pivoted to her left, dipped and found the door leaving her sidekick behind. Her work was done.

Feeling obliged I mentally conveyed the same to the second dragonfly. He did not want to know what I thought of him and nervously averted every facet of his compound eyes from mine deliberately shunning any presumption on my part that he was complicit regarding this confounding and magical intersect.

I sat elated and smug for a short spell. I knew an answer to my dragonfly hunch would be forthcoming and validated.

Then I got up and cupped the second dragonfly hanging on the valence with all his spent energy and cradled him over to the door.

Off he launched looking for his partner.