![](https://dooce.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/02/02_06_2013.jpg)
While walking along a trail in Arches National Park over the weekend I happened to look up as a flock of birds was soaring overhead. The way they look in this brief moment—still and frozen—is how I feel in my dreams sometimes, at least when I can remember them when I wake up. Floating over the ground, weightless, tied to nothing, watching everything below.
And then I ducked. Because bird poop.