The Symbolism of Dreams: My Unforgettable Armadillo Protector

Many people dream numerous times each night, often with little to no recollection. However, a vivid dream from the 1980s still resonates with the writer. In the dream, they confronted a terrifying creature and miraculously produced an armadillo from their pocket to ward off the threat. The symbolism and lasting impact of this dream remain significant.

Photo by Lawrence Schaefer on Pexels.com

Purportedly, we dream several times a night, every night. Like many, I rarely recall dreaming, and if I do, the details are sketchy and incoherent at best. Usually dreams are nonsensical and defy rational interpretation, on rare occasion they are subsconcious attempts to make sense of our waking hours.

However, there is one dream fragment from the early 1980s, when I was a college student, that I recall with remarkable clarity even to this day. At the time, I was enrolled in one of Professor Stohl’s religious studies courses. If I recollect correctly, the course was a special offering addressing the interplay between Jungian concepts and religion. Thus, perhaps, I was particularly attuned to the symbolism in any dreams I might have had at the time, whether nonsensical or otherwise.

In any event, the dream fragment I remember is notable for allowing me to use the expression, on very rare occasions, “Roll the armadillo!” when circumstances warrant.

The dream, or rather, nightmare, was as follows: I was standing alone when, suddenly, I was confronted by a fearsome, loathsome creature or monster. Instinctively and without hesitation, I thrust my right hand deep into my right pant pocket and pulled out a live armadillo, which I deftly rolled on the ground (enabled by the armadillo obligingly curling itself up defensively) towards the menacing creature. The armadillo, apparently a protective talisman, appeased or thwarted the threat presented by the monster. The danger dissipated, and the nightmare ended. If only we could, societally, roll the armadillo today.

image of youg man holding armadillo in hand confronting scary monster

The genesis of the dream is well-known to me and is irrelevant to this post, but the imagery is vivid and has embedded itself within my mind so thoroughly that decades later, I still smile thinking of it. Fairly certain I had never seen an armadillo in person at that point in my life, I am struck that I turned to it for protection (a role it assumes in many cultures, naturally, given its shell and behaviors). Equally striking is the ease with which I was able to pull an armadillo so conveniently from my trouser pocket. Dreams do allow for such conveniences!

Think, dear reader, what one dream do you most vividly remember from all the years you have lived, and why is it so striking? Mine is striking for a creature named by the Spanish as the “little armored ones,” one of whom served as my protector in a nightmare decades ago.

Also, on a lark, I created a “Talisman (Armadillo) Violin Concerto in D Minor” based on the above memory writing lyrics based on the above thoughts and using Udio.com to create music. The resulting concerto can be heard in the YouTube video above.

Talisman Violin Concerto in D Minor Lyrics

Purportedly, we dream each night,
Visions dance in the pale moonlight.
Memories fade, but one remains,
A nightmare where fear constrains.

Confronted by a beast so dire,
A creature of my deepest mire.
In terror's grasp, my hand did find,
An armadillo, defense designed.

Roll the armadillo, brave and small,
Facing darkness, defying all.
A symbol of strength, a talisman true,
In dreams, it protects, guiding me through.

In the professor's hallowed class,
Jungian thoughts and symbols pass.
Seeking meaning in realms unseen,
In dreams, we find where we've been.

Deep within my pocket's fold,
A tale of courage, quietly told.
An armadillo, small and strong,
Defies the monster, rights the wrong.

Roll the armadillo, brave and small,
Facing darkness, defying all.
A symbol of strength, a talisman true,
In dreams, it protects, guiding me through.

Decades passed, the memory stays,
Solace forms in countless ways.
Little armored one, protector bold,
A dream's embrace, a story told.

In life's vast dreamscape, find your shield,
In symbols, truths are oft revealed.
Think, dear reader, what dream you keep,
In your heart's vault, buried deep.

Roll the armadillo, brave and small,
Facing darkness, defying all.
A symbol of strength, a talisman true,
In dreams, it protects, guiding me through.

Dreams allow for such convening,
In their realm, find deeper meaning.
Roll the armadillo, brave and wise,
In dreams, our fears we can disguise.

Overestimating Abilities: A Continuing Trend Moves into the World of Academia

This short observation notes that professors and many others believe they can identify AI-assisted writing based on vocabulary use, such as “delve,” “interplay,” “intricate,” and “captivated.” The writer reflects on using such words since the 1980s, suggesting subconscious AI use and critiques modern educators for favoring simplistic writing over complex prose. Additionally, he discusses the modern tendency to overestimate individual abilities in various tasks, such as pandemic response and legal document writing.

Earlier this morning, I read an article asserting that many professors are confident in their innate ability to identify papers authored with the assistance of CHATGPT and similar artificial intelligence tools. The article’s comments section revealed widespread agreement among its readers that they could do the same. It appears that one of the primary indicators of AI-generated content in their collective minds is the use of certain vocabulary, including words such as “delve,” “interplay,” “intricate,” and “captivated.”

This conclusion struck me as somewhat amusing, as it suggests that I have been subconsciously employing artificial intelligence in my writing since the 1980s. It seems AI must have been implanted in my psyche at birth, only to be activated when I commenced my collegiate writing endeavors. Upon reviewing several of my papers from that era, as well as some recent compositions, I noticed the word “delve” frequently appearing, often within the introductory paragraph. By contemporary academic standards, it appears I would be accused of plagiarism frequently, and without merit, by today’s professors, whom I consider to be lacking in literacy, vocabulary, and style.

These modern educators seem to favor a style of writing that is monosyllabic and nearly without style, characterized by grunts and groans, rather than the intricate and complex prose that I believe leads to captivating reading and meaningful conclusions.

It further reminds me of the modern predilection of individuals to overestimate their ability to perform almost any task, whether it be land an airplane, conduct research on how best to respond to pandemics (as opposed to, say, listening to individuals who studied for years at University on the topic), or writing that complex legal document that attorneys labor for hours to write precisely to avoid unpleasant surprises later even if it seems like something anyone should be able to jot off in minutes.

The Marvel of Dragonflies: Symbolism and Beauty

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

This sunny July morning, a dragonfly graced my backyard, flitting about in the sun. These creatures are truly marvelous, appearing as if crafted eons ago with a design that defies flight. They are unequivocally my favorite insect. Their ability to hover, dart, and flit brings me endless delight, matched only by their enthralling colors.

Facts worth knowing: Before they take flight as dragonflies, living for only about six months, they spend anywhere from two months to five years or more as larvae in the water. Their remarkable flying abilities are considered by some to symbolize poise and elegance. According to the beliefs of others, encountering a dragonfly flitting around you signifies impending change, while one landing on your person is seen as a sign of good fortune. Exploring the dragonfly’s symbolism online or at the library reveals countless interpretations, both auspicious and inauspicious.

Stenciled Velvet, c. 1902–10. Tiffany Studios. (America, New York, 1902–1932) Designer, Dorothy Marshall Hornblower (American, 1886–1968). Cleveland Museum of Art.

For my part, I hold the dragonfly in such high regard that I have included it in my personal emblem, preferring it over more traditional images, such as lions and crosses. This preference stems from its ability to achieve flight—an improbable feat given its construction. For me, the dragonfly represents not only the triumph of grace over physics but also the boundless possibilities inherent in life if only one dares to try.

Inspired by the dragonfly I saw earlier, I attempted the following poem:

Dragonfly with Wings of Sheen

In morning’s golden light it flies,
A creature from ancient skies,
Dragonfly, with wings of sheen,
In hues of emerald and marine.

Born of water, from nymph to winged sprite,
To dance on air, in pure delight,
With grace that mocks the laws of earth,
They flit and dart, in joyous mirth.

Their eyes, like gems, do catch the sun,
As through the reeds they deftly run,
A world of beauty in their flight,
A fleeting glimpse of pure delight.

O dragonfly, in summer’s glow,
Your dance of life, a magic show,
A whisper from a distant age,
With every wingbeat, nature’s sage.

So fragile yet so strong and free,
A marvel of biology,
In every swoop, in every leap,
A secret of the waters deep.

Fly on, dear dragonfly, so grand,
Across the waters, o’er the land,
In every glint, we see in you,
A symbol of resilience true.

Celestial Reflections: Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star Latin Translation

Exploring the translation of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” into Latin after creating additional stanzas for the rhyme, I was inspired by the contemporary Celtic music sound provided by Udio.com. The resulting creation, “Celestial Reflections,” is set to a Celtic vibe by Udio. This linguistic and musical endeavor is documented in a video titled “Reflexiones Caelestes” on Youtube. The link to the video is provided.

Photo by Felix Mittermeier on Pexels.com

Occasionally attempting to translate simple English into easy Latin (with the assistance of memory, dictionaries, and software), and being quite taken with the contemporary Celtic sound of the music on Udio.com, I thought I would translate Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star into Latin, adding two additional stanzas of my own creation to the first one, and see what it sounded like when set to a Celtic vibe on Udio. “Celestial Reflections” (“Reflexiones Caelestes”) is the result.

“Celestial Reflections – Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star”

My Latin is crude and rough, I admit. My first stanza is:

Micat, micat, parva stella,
Quam miror quid sis bella!
Sursum supra mundi alti,
Sicut gemma in caelo.

The American Classical League’s translation of the first stanza, which I looked up after I did my translation, is:

Mica, Mica, parva stella;
Miror quaenam sis tam bella.
Splendens eminus in illo,
Alba velut gemma caelo.

The differences are intriguing, as the second line in my translation, “How I wonder/marvel at what a beauty you are!”, contrasts with the League’s rendering, “I wonder what makes you so beautiful.” My third line, “Up above the world so high,” differs from the League’s “Shining afar in that place.” Similarly, my fourth line, “like a gem in the sky,” contrasts with the League’s “white like a gem in the heavens.” The primary distinction lies in the League’s effort to rhyme the Latin words, a technique I did not employ. Additionally, the League chose to specify the gem as explicitly white, enhancing its resemblance to a diamond. Such nuances underscore the divide between scholars and an amateur such as myself!

For those interested, the English translation of the two additional stanzas I added may be as follows:

Twinkle, twinkle, purest star, Your radiant form, Through the night you give brilliance, You make a path through the darkness.

Twinkle, twinkle, bright star, In the rare celestial path, You shine with eternal light, You tint the night with sweet sleep.

Poetic Reflections: Exploring the Fortress of the Mind

In “L’attente (Waiting) [2004]” by Gao Xingjian, the author finds an appropriate artwork to illustrate his reflections on retreating into a world of words as a sanctuary from the harsh external world, but also as a form of self-imposed isolation. The poem expresses the duality of words as both protection and confinement, shaping the author’s existence, reflecting a life intertwined with letters, sheltered yet constrained by the fortress of his mind.In “L’attente (Waiting) [2004]” by Gao Xingjian, the author finds an appropriate artwork to illustrate his reflections on retreating into a world of words as a sanctuary from the harsh external world, but also as a form of self-imposed isolation. The poem expresses the duality of words as both protection and confinement, shaping the author’s existence, reflecting a life intertwined with letters, sheltered yet constrained by the fortress of his mind.

L’attente (Waiting) [2004] by Gao Xingjian (b. 1940).

As I am confounded by life now, as I was in my youth, I retreat, as always, into a world of words, written on pages and assembled in books. These books surround me, forming walls that at times serve as battlements, the fortifications protecting me from the external perils of an incomprehensible, harsh, and hostile world, or so I tell myself. In other moments, however, these same walls are the confines of a cell, isolating me in solitude, depriving me of the air, sustenance, and human interactions necessary to life and sanity. Thus, the world of words is both my sanctuary and prison.

Of course, playing the poet much of late, and a bad one at that, I transmogrified the above thoughts, into the following:

I retreat, as always, into words,
Pages inked and bound in books,
Encircled by these silent guards,
My fortress walls, my quiet nooks.

At times they stand as battlements,
Shielding me from the world’s disdain,
A citadel where reason reigns,
Against the chaos, fear, and pain.

Yet oft they turn to prison walls,
Confines of a solitary cell,
Where air and sustenance are scarce,
And human warmth does not dwell.

This paradox my soul sustains,
A life in letters intertwined,
Sheltered by and yet constrained,
By the fortress of my mind.