My husband, John Casey, was part Native American—Lakota. He learned the language, built a sweat lodge and held traditional ceremonies. He ran naked through the woods, alone, in the dark hours of the morning. One day he told me he’d had this dream:
I was running naked through the woods
lightning all around my body
crows flying amid the flashes
As I ran I began to fly and became one with the wind
I began to fly and I became a crow
There is no separation
Later, he had crows and lightning tattooed on his body.