November 27, 2008, The Flying Frog

I dream I am outdoors in nature, with bushes and trees. Beneath a bush I find a large frog. I pick it up. The frog jumps up into the air and flies around in a loop before it comes down into my hands. I examine the frog. It has webbing between its arms and legs, like a flying squirrel. When it breathes it swells up like a balloon or a bullfrog. It is light on its belly and dark green on its back. I let it go under a bush. A cat scratches it and tears it open, with its claws. I pick up the frog again. It is deflated and flat. I feel sad that the frog is damaged and dead. It feels like such a waste for such a beautiful creature to die like this. It feels like the cat is vicious and cruel and yet I know that the cat is only doing what comes naturally.