I dreamt of swans last night. They appeared, swimming, on the lake where I grew up: two white, two grey with tufts on their heads like long-necked grebes, and two light brown, which I identified as juvenile. (In fact, they didn't actually look like real swans, but some combination of loon and grebe or merganser and swan, but because it was a dream, this didn't matter.)
As I watched from the shore, a boat or a sort of floating wagon appeared in the lake -- painted orange, with tall sides and a ramp, with a genial man who stood up to his knees in the water and herded the birds into the enclosed boat; he doesn't speak, but he's friendly. Above the dark entranceway through which they walked, black hand-painted letters read "Royal Swans."
After the swans and their boat and boatman disappeared, another boat - open and full of loud people, like the multi-bicycle-pedaled party-vans that roam the Plateau Mont-Royal in summer - came racing across the lake, and near our shore it plowed right over a swimmer, who fortunately bobbed back to the surface, looking shocked and waving her arms. I went down to the edge of the water near where the boat had stopped and spoke to the driver. "This is not acceptable," I told him, calmly. "For one thing, this is a motor boat and there is a rule that no motors are allowed on this lake." (That is true) "For another, you're going much too fast and you ran right over that swimmer, didn't you see her?" We talked on in this vein; he said they meant no harm and were just trying to have a good time and enjoy the lake, and I explained that if they wanted to come here they could need to ask a resident for permission. What was significant (and ridiculous) was the tone - the whole conversation was reasonable, not angry or hysterical, as you'd think it would have been under real circumstances.
I've had many dreams of this lake over the years, where I'm watching from the bank or the shoreline, and various things materialize or happen above or on or below the surface, as if it were enchanted, like Avalon. Sometimes these dreams are dark and frightening, sometimes mysterious or fantastical, but, unlike nearly all my other dreams, they are usually highly significant, even if it takes weeks for me to understand their meaning, as will no doubt be the case in this one.
White birds on the lake -- usually snow geese -- have always been a good omen for me, or even a sign of death and resurrection, but I don't yet see quite what these were doing, in their three variations. The painted sign, though, I can identify as an echo of the "Paradise Pickles and Preserves" sign on top of the family's Plymouth in Arundhati Roy's The God of Small Things, which I was re-reading just before I went to bed last night!
What I think the dream is about is a process in two parts. (I've been dealing with some problems lately, which I was thinking about as I went to sleep, so I'm interpreting the dream in that context.) The lake always represents insight of some sort, arising perhaps from the subconscious (unexpected things that come from below the surface) or more familiar things that are seen on or near the water, but might be unexpected or in odd juxtapositions, asking for new interpretation. The lake itself always feels "safe"; nothing scary has ever come out of it, or happened to me in it, in a dream. When there is something frightening or even apocalyptic, it comes over the trees from the horizon - from the world "out there," away from the security of the lake itself.
So far, then, I think the swans are a sign saying that things will be all right - they are swimming peacefully, they're not afraid of me, even when they look straight at me and pass close by, and they walk docilely into their boat, their ark, to be ferried away by the circus-barker-like Noah. Nothing indicates that I'm supposed to go with them, or that there's a flood or other disaster coming. However, in the next scene, something definitely not-OK happens, and I have to leave my position as a mere observer and go down to the water to deal with it. But the tone of the ensuing conversation seems to indicate a calm, collected, reasonableness in my manner, and because of it, no one gets angry, no one gets hurt, nobody goes away mad. I think the message is "if you stay calm and centered, you can deal with whatever problems come up," and "don't forget the messengers" - the swans - who are a reminder that I'm not alone; there is help in the universe.
Any other ideas? Do you have significant dreams in a recurrent setting?
