I was sharing a house with several people, including a woman who decided to make a turkey soup.
Upon the stove-top was a huge blue enamel kettle which she filled with all kinds of vegetables. She retrieved from the freezer a white paper-wrapped package that contained the last ingredient– the turkey. She threw this frozen turkey unceremoniously on top of the vegetables and turned it on a low heat.
This turkey was frozen stiff, but it was not cleaned and dressed. It still had its feathers and was intact and complete– just frozen.
After passing this kettle several times, I noticed that the bird was not dead. It was perched on top of the mound of vegetables, with its head just above the warm water, and as it began to thaw, it began to move ever so slightly– its head turning just a bit, the feathers rustling ever so slightly. I found this situation so disturbing, and I felt so sorry for the bird, that I reached in and lifted it into my arms.
I carried the turkey around all day, warming it with my own body, and eventually it came out of its stupor all together. It didn’t seem to mind my handling it, and even seemed to enjoy the closeness, sitting in my lap and staying near even though it became strong enough to wander away if it had chosen to.
(*Note: I had this dream the day I learned a dear friend had lost a family member to a tragic accident. Under the circumstances, I find the most interesting aspect of this dream to be death and resurrection.)
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