The Winged Frog and Horse Camp

I was doing my morning pool duties and a tiny frog was floating upside-down in the leaf catch, looking pretty dead. I put him in the palm of my hand, looking for signs of life and he suddenly leapt and fell three feet, hitting the hard stone with a *splap*. “Oh, no!” Maybe his bones broke, but the nearest frog clinic was 6,000 miles away, in Tibet. So, I picked him back up and stroked him a little – maybe the first caress he had ever known. It might have irritated his delicate genitalian skin. I put him in a little grassy place, under a six-inch ceiling of wood. What a meal he would be for a lucky bird.

Some vacationers were leaving. Their girl, 6 or 7, was looking for something in the back of the car – maybe something precious her father had packed there the night before. Since she was turned away from me, I decided not to say anything. “Hi,” a little voice said. She must have heard my footfalls. She had grown accustomed to seeing me around.

“Good morning,” I said.

“We’re leaving,” she said sadly.

“Aw. Did you have a good time?”

Gentle nodding, looking away from me, into the trunk of the car. Then she said something inaudible.

“Maybe I’ll see you next year,” I said.

“Next year I’m going to horse camp.”

“Horse camp?! Cool. That’ll be so fun.”

Nod.

“Goodbye,” I said.

“Bye.”

Horse camp: The horse is to the body as the rider is to the mind. The phrase, “Where the horses run free,” has referred to mind-body unity in the New Kingdom; that of the beings into which human beings are evolving. I want to go to horse camp; where the birds will eat my inner-frog so that it may be reborn with wings.

On Monday, Wednesday and Friday updates are posted to Amy George’s other blog Ask the Dream Queen, for which she interprets reader-submitted dreams.