My dog, Cane, dreamed of zebras when the bird on his nose flew away. He had seen a lion chase them on TV and wanted to catch their stripes.
Later that night, in a dream Cane wanted me to have, the dream bird appeared on the roof of the new house going up. I wanted it to sit on my finger and tell me a story—- but it just flew away.
I saw Cane in the dream of the dream of the dream bird sleeping at my feet, trying not to overthink it.
He was chasing squirrels in our small fenced backyard. It was a hot beautiful day. When I turned yellow he stopped.
A brush fire was blooming in the black behind me, behind the telephone poles.
Not really close, but close enough to scare Cane inside.
I thought he was hungry. I gave him his usual chicken concentrate, 1 tbsp dry mixed with 2 tbsp water, taking a long time to thicken the gravy, before adding 1/3 cup kibble.
He just pushed the bowl, pushed the thought of pushing the bowl around.
Completing his thought I pushed the words around, stripping my thoughts blind, leaning very hard into the images in Cane’s head.
But all I could think about was that The Hurricanes lost on Saturday and The Dolphins today and my life was lost— at least my football life—for this year.
I saw Cane’s dream legs twitch and knew he was seeing clouds— cumulous, cirrus, cumulonimbus— lions, tigers and bear, oh my, for him—~ and for me, how the Road to Oz is paved with both gold and false dreams
In Cane’s dream of which I am dreaming with him, he chases a squirrel into a tree and a bat comes out to chase him.
The fire is gone. The first drops of the gathering storm has extinguished it.
Cane is speaking— “meow, meow, meow,” scared of being a dog who can't climb trees?
I tried to finish my thought thinking replacing my big words might work with simpler, little ones— but the dream was real and the walls around me— imaginary.
The sky outside was cloudless. I watched another thought come up to my closed window and surprised, turn around— leaving nothing but fingerprints.
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