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Description
When I built the bird feeder, I hoped that a bird would find a place there for its spiritual contemplation, for its creative output.
I made sure that it was shining in the evening sun and that there was a gate to the Dream Ocean nearby.
Birds love this dream, the entrance into a multidimensional system of paths, ideas,
Dreams and diverse spiritual contents, feelings in the depths of the most sensitive hearts, which in large numbers accessed the dream ocean.
I loved birds and had contacts with them myself. Some heard my thoughts on other worlds, and I heard them.
So I sat in front of the bird feeder, it was a modestly built one,
waited with the view to the horizon before a special bird would appear.
I also had a lot of birdseed in the basement in case it was a gourmet who would build his place of relaxation here.

Then:
I waited a couple of weeks.
One morning, it was 5 o'clock. And I've been awake for a while
was just drawing a picture on my Cintiq of an ugly, red, and huge bird. I smoked spicy herbs in an ivory pipe. An old record player stood in the corner of my study and was connected to pretty good speaker boxes. That was important because it was a fine mixture of melancholy Gothic, classical music and dreamy nursery rhymes, it was important to hear the high-pitched sounds well and the basses had to form a solid foundation.
Suddenly there was a tremor and after a few minutes I gradually looked out the window. A bomb must have hit there.
'Oh wow?'
That was an even bigger bird in the garden next to the vegetable patch than the boy in my drawing. 'And he smelled like cotton candy.' I was blown away.
The funny thing was that he was red too, an ugly guy, but I hop out the window, it wasn't high and greeted my visitor.
Maybe he wanted to stay.
'Hey dude, I come from the dreams behind your drawings and beyond and, since you built a ... little bird house, I thought I could find accommodation with you. What are you saying?' he snarled in a sonorous voice.
I agreed, but added the question of how he was going to fit into the little bird house.
'Oh that, ha, I knew that stood out. Now, I am a bird - Bibbold, my name, by the way - that can shrink.
Only not at full moon. I'm sleeping then in the garden on the meadow. '
I agreed, showed him everything, gave him a taste of the birdseed, he was happy with it, and we became good friends.

Description
When I built the bird feeder, I hoped that a bird would find a place there for its spiritual contemplation, for its creative output.
I made sure that it was shining in the evening sun and that there was a gate to the Dream Ocean nearby.
Birds love this dream, the entrance into a multidimensional system of paths, ideas,
Dreams and diverse spiritual contents, feelings in the depths of the most sensitive hearts, which in large numbers accessed the dream ocean.
I loved birds and had contacts with them myself. Some heard my thoughts on other worlds, and I heard them.
So I sat in front of the bird feeder, it was a modestly built one,
waited with the view to the horizon before a special bird would appear.
I also had a lot of birdseed in the basement in case it was a gourmet who would build his place of relaxation here.

Then:
I waited a couple of weeks.
One morning, it was 5 o'clock. And I've been awake for a while
was just drawing a picture on my Cintiq of an ugly, red, and huge bird. I smoked spicy herbs in an ivory pipe. An old record player stood in the corner of my study and was connected to pretty good speaker boxes. That was important because it was a fine mixture of melancholy Gothic, classical music and dreamy nursery rhymes, it was important to hear the high-pitched sounds well and the basses had to form a solid foundation.
Suddenly there was a tremor and after a few minutes I gradually looked out the window. A bomb must have hit there.
'Oh wow?'
That was an even bigger bird in the garden next to the vegetable patch than the boy in my drawing. 'And he smelled like cotton candy.' I was blown away.
The funny thing was that he was red too, an ugly guy, but I hop out the window, it wasn't high and greeted my visitor.
Maybe he wanted to stay.
'Hey dude, I come from the dreams behind your drawings and beyond and, since you built a ... little bird house, I thought I could find accommodation with you. What are you saying?' he snarled in a sonorous voice.
I agreed, but added the question of how he was going to fit into the little bird house.
'Oh that, ha, I knew that stood out. Now, I am a bird - Bibbold, my name, by the way - that can shrink.
Only not at full moon. I'm sleeping then in the garden on the meadow. '
I agreed, showed him everything, gave him a taste of the birdseed, he was happy with it, and we became good friends.