What is it that lives in the ephemeral corridor between waking and sleep? The source of guiding whispers that stir me from dreams of flying whales, softly landing me back into my bed with helpful hints.

Does this source – whatever it may be – impart mystical knowledge? The secret meaning of life  unveiled as I awake from my dreams?

No, it is most usually something earthly and common. Typically, quite random. And in the instance of my most recent, rousing transmission, I left my dreamtime cetacean friends and woke to this communication:

“Check the bottom left hand drawer of your desk and you’ll find the postal tracking receipt for your passport.”

I took great pains to mail my passport renewal with a return receipt and required signature. I recall the transaction at the post office ending with paper clips, post it notes and some well-laid filing plan. Though, for all of my efforts, I apparently over-organized myself to the point of not being able to find where I put my documentation.

Hence, weeks later, my passport had still not arrived and I was left with no tracking number or paperwork to show I’d ever mailed it.

Until the waking whisper.

Hours later, I’m at my desk and I remember the mundane murmurs that had come that morning through the passage between dreams and my pillow.

Why not? I reach down to the lower left hand drawer and open it.

And just exactly where it had been suggested, my dated paperwork, details on sticky notes, and the postal receipt with a tracking number are there, all paper clipped together.

What’s more, later that afternoon, I open my post office box to find my new passport inside. No more tracking necessary.

So, what is the source of this information that is passed to my brain in the haze of early waking? Are these dreamtime gods?

Angels? My subconscious, that somehow knows all?

I may never know the answer to this question.

Whoever/whatever it is that offers these lucid inklings, I like their style. The delivery of something practical with a little mystical flair. Dreamy and soft, mysterious transmissions gifting me treasured secrets.

Pearls of wisdom. Like the location of my postal tracking receipt. Now that’s some info I can use.