Water

I dreamt I was the high priestess of a country which had just begun recovery from a long, devastating war. Among the consequences was that our river, which flowed from the highest peak of the country to its lowest point (it was a very slanty country) had run dry. In order to set it flowing again, I had to have sex in the riverbed. This worked, and the water came down from the mountain, but the problem was that it was such a gentle flow and such a pleasant temperature that all the citizens of the kingdom came out to bathe in the river. This was bad because they clogged it up and threw garbage into it; as well, there was a sense that this was improper given the role of the river, which was spiritually significant. So I pulled a hair from my head, tied a knot in it, and threw it into the water. It became a salmon. The salmon swam upstream as frigid water crashed and surged around it, flooding the banks and scaring away the people. Finally, the salmon leapt up the waterfall at the top edge of the mountain and disappeared into the rocky pools above.