The first part of the dream saw me freaking out at the thought of having a dozen large stag-bettles in jeans pocket which I had happily bought in the pet shop earlier that day. I ran into my childhood garden and took off my jeans outside, shaking them to get the beattles out. They scattered out of the pocket; they were dead.
Then, I dreamed I found a dead crow in the garden of my childhood home. I brought the dead crow in and he was in a plastic bag. The next part of the dream showed me that my father had washed the crow in the kitchen sink and left it to dry on the draining board. Miraculously, after the crow dried out, he became ALIVE. He and I bonded and he was a friendly crow. I fed him cat biscuits and sliced turkey which he ate in quite a hungry cat-like way, focussing on getting at the meat first. He wanted more but my mother let him out and he flew away. I hoped he would do well, my friend the crow.
Then I was woken up.
Although strange, it felt a significant dream and very vivid on waking up. The dream was hazy and in black and white.