The Dream...
 
As is my pattern of life here in rural Georgia, when dove season rolls around I go dove hunting.  On opening day all the other hunters with me knew the routine upon arriving at the field we were to hunt in.  Every hunter picked their spot.  The doves were flying thick and steady and it was no trouble reaching the limit.  However, during the middle of my hunt a white dove landed right in front of me.  The dove was not fearful for its life.  I did not pick this dove up with my hands.  I kneeled down, put my arm around the white dove and hugged it.  There was something special about this white dove and I sensed the need to handle this special dove with both love and respect.  Somehow I knew that the disapproving eyes of all the other hunters were upon me.  After all, this is not how things were done in "our" world.  I did not care.  In fact, from that moment on I had no desire to ever dove hunt again.
 
There is no more to this vivid and unusual dream.  Make of it what you will, this dream remains precious.
 
Andrew