Last Night I Dreamt of Ravens

Raven sculpture and Triumph Bonneville

Last night I dreamt of ravens; ravens hiding amongst a murder of crows. Try as they might to unassumingly blend with the other corvids, I saw them as clear as day. True greatness cannot remain hidden. Like water against rock, it fights it’s way free.

Raven, did you come to warn me of misfortune or perhaps betrayal? Was your prophecy that of wisdom? I want to take heed but as in so many matters, I simply do not understand. In the off chance you are taking requests, a message from the god of truth and healing would be nice. Living with the knowledge that I know so little is a new paper cut each day.

You’ve come to me many times in the last year, Raven. More times than in the sum of my whole life. You have been calling out on well-worn paths. But, until recently, I never saw you, never heard your voice. Were you always there while I was busy sleepwalking?

One autumn afternoon, I heard you before I could see you. You were invisible, or my eyes were blind. I know not which. There was only your call carried on the wind. Though we’d not met, I knew your voice, I knew it was you on the far side of my sight. The omniscient voice told me that there was something more beyond my reach. But, the first step was to believe.

Do you remember when you called to me from the leafless tree over the river? It was just you and me. I stood listening as the sun reflected on your blue-black wings; you told me a secret. The knowledge was only for me. When the strangers came to see you, you said nothing more and I knew it was time for me to go. Were you there to guide my soul towards a new life?

That morning in the rain, you perched exposed, silently watching the fog. There were many places nearby in which to seek shelter, to shield yourself from the harshness of the elements. But you sought them not. Head down, you did not turn away from discomfort. You met it head on, diminishing its power over you. My wish for you was a laurel wreath.

Was that you, Apollo? 


Rachael is the whimsical writer behind the 20+ year old Girlie Motorcycle Blog. As a freelance blogger, she is on a mission to inspire laughter, self-examination, curiosity, and human connection. Girlie Motorcycle Blog can be found on several Best Motorcycle Blog lists.

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16 Responses

  1. Ted Kettler says:

    I have to ask, are those words from the depths of your own mind or the words of someone else? If they are yours, I think you have found your calling. Very nice.

  2. MIke says:

    That was very, very, very strange and kind of creepy Rachael. If you are about to completely lost it please call someone. Otherwise, it was brilliant.

  3. Steel says:

    Ditto to what Ted Kettler said.

  4. Khickok says:

    I loved it, though I couldn’t understand it. I will keep trying.

    • Fuzzygalore says:

      we only take away what we need from someone else’s story. maybe you don’t need anything from this one, right now. maybe you understand that perfectly fine 🙂

  5. Wuzzie says:

    And so the raven quotes “nevermore”. You give new meaning to the expression “he’s a tough old bird”. Your right…we canweather most storms.

    • wuzzie says:

      The Raven
      Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
      Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
      While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
      As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
      “’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
      Only this and nothing more.”

  6. Elisa says:

    Isn’t there a Raven on Game of Thrones? He portends the future.

  7. Border Planet says:

    I hope your raven’s whispered secret was a true prophecy and that your new path is filled with light. I hope that you are healed and triumphant.

    Your raven encounter reminded me of the Raven story from the Alutiiq People of Kodiak Island. Their story was retold in simplified form on the old television series, Northern Exposure.

    “A long time ago, the raven looked down from the sky and saw that the people of the world were living in darkness.

    The ball of light was kept hidden by a selfish old chief.

    So the raven turned himself into a spruce needle and floated on the river where the chief’s daughter came for water.

    She drank the spruce needle.

    She became pregnant and gave birth to a boy, who was the raven in disguise.

    The baby cried and cried until the chief gave him the ball of light to play with.

    As soon as he had the light, the raven turned back into himself.

    The raven carried the light into the sky.

    From then on, we no longer lived in darkness.”

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