A strange thing happened.
Having been on my own journey, I was returning to the home I have known for many years. I flew on wings of blue and white as the eagle soars through the sky.
As the day faded, I pulled a book from a bag and began to read. It was the story of a boy who grew to be a revered Indian Chief – the chief of the Crows.
My eyes became heavy. I set the book aside and drifted off to sleep, wandering in another land and place. Somehow the words I had read were played out before my eyes. Indian boys clothed in wolf skins stepped into manhood , approaching a buffalo ready to charge. One young boy began his own journey to find the path of his destiny as leader of his people. I saw a glimpse into the life of a great warrior and chief.
As quickly as my eyes closed into slumber, my mind was roused back to reality. The dream, though brief, faded into the darkness.
And yet, the thought came to mind in an inaudible whisper, “Your father would be proud.” Of where the thought came, I did not know. Was the voice because of my own journey? Was it the cry of the voices of a people in search of a land? Of that, I cannot tell.
The plane landed and we made our way to the baggage claim area. As we waited, I looked, and above the baggage carousel was a sign, “There are road trips. And then there are pilgrimages.”
Maybe the vision wasn’t a dream after all.
