In the dream Penelope has twenty geese and takes pleasure in them, but an eagle comes from the mountain, kills them all, and flies off:
ἐξ ὕδατος, καί τέ σφιν ἰαίνομαι εἰσορόωσα·
ἐλθὼν δ᾽ ἐξ ὄρεος μέγας αἰετὸς ἀγκυλοχήλης
πᾶσι κατ᾽ αὐχένας ἦξε καὶ ἔκτανεν· οἱ δ᾽ ἐκέχυντο
ἁθρόοι ἐν μεγάροισ᾽, ὁ δ᾽ ἐς αἰθέρα δῖαν ἀέρθη.
out of the water, and I delight in looking at them.
But a great eagle with a curved beak came from the mountain
and broke each one’s neck and killed them all. And they lay
in a heap in the house, while the eagle rose up high into the shining ether.
Still within the dream, Penelope cries and the Achaean women gather around her. Then the eagle returns and talks to her in a human voice, interpreting the dream:
φωνῇ δὲ βροτέῃ κατερήτυε φώνησέν τε·
θάρσει, Ἰκαρίου κούρη τηλεκλειτοῖο
οὐκ ὄναρ, ἀλλ᾽ ὕπαρ ἐσθλόν, ὅ τοι τετελεσμένον ἔσται.
χῆνες μὲν μνηστῆρες, ἐγὼ δέ τοι αἰετὸς ὄρνις
ἦα πάρος, νῦν αὖτε τεὸς πόσις εἰλήλουθα
ὃς πᾶσι μνηστῆρσιν ἀεικέα πότμον ἐφήσω.
and in a human voice consoled me and spoke to me:
Take heart, daughter of far-famed Ikarios.
This is not a dream, but a welcome waking sight, and it will come to fulfillment.
The geese are the suitors, and I was an eagle before,
but now I have come back and I am your husband,
and I will bring an ugly death upon all of the suitors.
Why this emphasis? Perhaps it is there because, as the narratives of Barčin’s dream suggest, what Penelope describes now and will describe next would ordinarily happen upon awakening. Apart from this, however, the next steps are reminiscent of the Alpāmïš scenes. Penelope is distressed, but there is someone next to her who offers encouragement and interprets her dream positively. The unusual part is that it is not one of the women, but the eagle—even though he had disappeared into the ether just a minute ago. Now the eagle returns and sits on the roof and speaks the words that have occasioned so much discussion in Homeric scholarship: χῆνες μὲν μνηστῆρες (“the geese are the suitors,” Odyssey 19.548). It is because of this statement that the argument that the twenty geese stand for the twenty years—and indeed any argument that the geese are not the suitors in the first part of the dream—has been so hard to advance.
ἦα πάρος, νῦν αὖτε τεὸς πόσις εἰλήλουθα,
ὃς πᾶσι μνηστῆρσιν ἀεικέα πότμον ἐφήσω.
ὦ γύναι, οὔ πως ἔστιν ὑποκρίνασθαι ὄνειρον
ἄλλῃ ἀποκλίναντ᾽, ἐπεὶ ἦ ῥά τοι αὐτὸς Ὀδυσσεὺς
πέφραδ᾽, ὅπως τελέει· μνηστῆρσι δὲ φαίνετ’ ὄλεθρος
πᾶσι μάλ᾽, οὐδέ κέ τις θάνατον καὶ κῆρας ἀλύξει.
“Lady, there is no way to respond to the dream
by turning it another way, since Odysseus himself
told you how it will come to fulfillment. Doom is apparent for the suitors,
all of them, and not one of them will escape death and destruction.”
This confirmed and repeated interpretation underscores the difference between what happens inside the dream and what is going on between Odysseus and Penelope as they sit and talk by the fire. As I will argue presently, the same interpretation plays a different role in two narratives: within the dream, Penelope is distressed and in need of encouragement, but out of the dream, in the macro-narrative of the Odyssey, she is not puzzled by any vision and needs no interpretation. Before coming to this point, however, it is necessary to consider the larger context in which Penelope tells her dream, since the strangeness of Penelope’s dream has to do in part with how the dream fits into her conversation with Odysseus.
This is not a dream but welcome waking sight, and it will come to fulfillment.
Penelope makes the eagle say that her vision is not an ὄναρ ‘dream’, but a ὕπαρ ‘waking sight’, paradoxically adding “one which will be fulfilled.” The use of ὕπαρ in combination with τετελεσμένον ἔσται is highly unusual. A more typical usage is illustrated by the formulaic verse:
So I will say it, and it will come to fulfillment. 
πέφραδ᾽, ὅπως τελέει· μνηστῆρσι δὲ φαίνετ’ ὄλεθρος …
told how it will come to fulfillment: destruction is apparent for the suitors … 
This statement is yet another exercise in ambivalence, including the ambivalence of the pronoun αὐτός, which Bonifazi analyzes as marking the “coincidence between ‘Odysseus’ foretelling the mnēstērophonia and the speaking ‘I’ doing the same.”  Penelope made the eagle in her dream reach out to the beggar-Odysseus and identify with him, and now the beggar makes his return move by merging himself, Odysseus, and the eagle in his expression “αὐτὸς Ὀδυσσεύς.” He then goes on to reiterate and expand the eagle’s prophecy about the death for the suitors. 
He pulled her to the bed. 
The love-making of Alpamys’ parents, which leads to the hero’s conception, is described in a similar way in another Kazakh version of the epic, by Abdraim Bajtursunov:
Approaches a red Altay fox,
extending his claws and throwing his head back,
Like a white gyrfalcon flies down,
Like a hawk grapples a duck,
So they two intertwined. 
Returning to the Uzbek epic, at one occasion in Fāzil Yoldaš-oġli’s version of the Alpāmïš the hero describes himself to his future friend Karajan as a falcon who failed to catch a duck and who now searches for her:
I failed to take a duck from Lake Kok-kamyš.
A falcon is looking for that duck, that falcon is I. 
Commenting on this passage the editors say: “In this monologue the speech of Alpāmïš is full of riddling expressions that use the traditional similes (symbolism) of the folk wedding songs; the bride is the duck (or the female camel), for whom the groom (falcon, male camel) looks.”  If figuring the bridegroom as a bird of prey is part of the traditional symbolism of Uzbek wedding songs, then Uzbek singers evoke such songs in Barčin’s dream. Homeric Penelope in making of her dream-tale does the same within her own tradition.