A Sign

A dream came to me last night,    
Of a butterfly in flight,  
Upon a finger, on my outstretched hand,    
It did land.    
    
It sniffed my finger with it's antenna, and then,    
Almost licked my finger with it's proboscis, when,    
I awoke from said dream,    
Before forgetting, after wondering and beginning to understand what it might mean...    
   
I've always known I've loved butterflies,    
But now even more so, for they give me butterflies,    
For they link to you,    
And the reason for your career choice, so sweet and true.    
   
The role your mother played in a play,    
The scene in which she described a butterfly,    
How much that did mean to you,    
To go into acting because of her, was so sweet of you.    
   
Then today, whilst asleep in my bed,    
My mother decides to play a podcast to help awake my sleepy head,    
And within the episode, they interviewed none other than you!    
I sprung up, to hear you.    
   
One question, was what made you want to go into acting,    
You relayed the story, of your mother's acting,    
And the butterfly,    
The butterfly!    
   
...And it dawned on me,    
It hit me,    
I remembered the dream,    
The butterfly...    
   
It was a sign, good things are coming our way.