Ryan and I were in a bedroom; we kept hearing chirping. We found the source in a closet in a box or wooden chest or something. Ryan opened it and out flew hundreds of baby chickens. Yellow fluffy wings were everywhere. Some were flying so high they were hitting the ceiling fan and bouncing off. I freaked out thinking they were going to get decapitated, plus the room was really filling up with them. I opened a window and they all zoomed out, thousands upon thousands landed in the tree outside the window, covering it in yellow.
The rest of the dream is irrelevant to the revelation.
I believe, even though chickens can’t really fly, that they’re still symbolic of spring and with that a new stage of my life. And maybe by them flying it means something fantastical, magical, innovative will happen.
This is what I'd like to believe anyway, so I'm going to go ahead and believe it!