In my dream I am standing on a narrow path through a forest. It is winter time – no, it is the time when autumn still glows like the dying embers of a campfire. A time of letting go, winding down, entering the realm of darkness and dreams. A fresh blanket of snow covers the ground and I notice how it glistens in the moonlight. 

The woods are silent as I drink in the scent of the coming season. I am aware of the cold as I look up through the trees at the night sky; deep ocean blue gradating into a glowing turquoise. Stars dance against the backdrop of infinity.

As I start to walk, I realize I am headed north. I begin to be aware of the eyes of those who watch, hidden, from beyond the path I travel. And I understand without question that these are my guides, and that they mean me no harm. And so I walk, my guides – unseen – and me – a dream. Cresting a hill, a clearing appears before me, and I slow my pace.

A magnificent Elk steps out from the brambles, silent as the snow. Time suspends, my breathing all but stops. He regards me fearlessly, his eyes bore into mine for what seems an eternity. Slowly, like a yoga master, he stretches his head back, and I notice his swirling antlers, glowing like ancient antennas. And then he opens his mouth and releases the most hauntingly beautiful sound…a song unlike anything I have ever heard. Wild, primal, melancholy, visceral; the words to describe the sound do not exist in my vocabulary.

I know in the core of my being that I am listening to the anthem of the earth, the song of Nature, the Voice of the Universe. The sound resonates through my body, and I feel enveloped by an energy which comes simultaneously from within and from outside of me. I suddenly know the fundamental Truth; the connection of all things, seen and unseen.

As soon as I become aware, Elk lowers his head and steps silently back into the brush, disappearing into a shroud of mist. It was then that I notice snow-capped mountains rising from beyond the edge of the clearing. The sparkle of a gold talisman wrapped on a branch where Elk had stood catches my eye. When I look back at the mountains I see they are not mountains at all, but tipis, their painted outer walls glowing. I smell burning cedar and sage.  I turn around and begin the walk back home.