I was walking down a road in some place that felt like Wyoming. I was supposed to be back doing something but i said "Fuck it" and went walking with ebony. I needed the space. I needed to get away for a little bit. Except, ebony wasn't ebony, she was a small yellowish dog with curls and hair, maybe a cocker spaniel, I'm not sure.

There were golden grasses along either side of the road, like wheat, only barely knee high, and a small metal fence, a mesh of thick and rusty six inch wire squares, paralleled us about 4 feet in from the road. There were no lines on the road and the tar was old and grey.

A dirt road went off to the left and we took it. It was short and lead to a body of water, which I waded into. The dog followed, I assume she walked along the lake bed. It was a dream not of her; she faded from my consciousness. The camera of my dreams swung a few feet past me and I saw myself look down and see a large fish maybe five or six feet to my side. It was at least four feet long with dead grey scales and sharp sharp teeth. A holdover from the paleolithic: long, gray, and motionless.

I sank into the perfect clarity of the water. I sat without disturbing it's surface. I was naked now. I watched the motionless fish. Minutes past and I noticed a tube of flesh coming up from it's back and trailing behind it. It was the morsel that some fish dangle before their mouths to lure smaller fish in. Only fully formed, and a fish on it's own.

The larger fish came from behind. Maybe half again it's size but thick and stubby in appearance. It grabbed the first fish in the legs it did but didn't have. It fucked it. It grabbed it doggie style and fucked it. Whether or not it wanted to be. They faded away from me, off into the pond, and as the fucked and faded the first fish became as a cartoon. It's motions became almost balloon-like as it bounced away from it's captor with every thrust.

The wated was now less clear. Sediment was mixed through it's molecules and still I sat. The water coming up to my pits.

Pain! A bite on my left arm. Teeth sank in. I grabbed with my right, and without sight through the much pulled the first fish off and threw as best I could in the fluid. Again! Biting hard and deep. Again I pulled with my right and threw harder this time... I had to get out.

I walked along the lake-bed of a pond now up to my pits when standing. The yellow ebony just confused in front of me beneath the surface. Sediment churned everywhere. I could barely see through the muck. Then it came. Quickly, it shot towards me but I was ready. I caught it between both hands and pulled it to my gut like someone catching a football. I held it aloft and with all the strength I could summon I threw it across the pond.

I had to get out.

I leaned into the pond and thrust with my legs. It was coming. It was coming again and the pain still drilled into my arm. So close, the edge so close, I don't want to be bitten again.

I am out. I am safe. Once more clothed and dry I stand on the sandy pond edge with ebony and start walking home. Not watching where I'm going, I stare at my arm.

At the thickest point of my left forearm there is a pit an inch deep, as if a nail passed through and pulled the surface of the skin down into the arm. At the base of the pit is a small red plug. It is blood. It is poison. The wound is clean but the poisoned plug remains. I had to suck it out. My feet pumped and carried me towards home.

I leaned in and brought the arm up. I sucked. The plug shot back in my mouth dissolving at the base of my nasal passages. I sucked harder to pull as much of the poison from my arm as I could. It was in my mouth, swirling in my saliva, but I couldn't manage to get enough to spit it out.

I leaned in and sucked on the other smaller wounds, repeating the process. I can't spit it out but somehow this isn't nearly as bad.

I am home. Only now the dream is watching two others. The one who was me is now a stranger, a boy. The camera follows him to a house in an abandoned sand pit. Cops, and other cars are parked by the door. As he approaches the door blue uniformed men lead cowofdoom from the house. He says something about how the first boy was there and can back up his story. They both start speaking, making up an event that didn't happen. Something about a car. cowofdoom mentions the roof catching on fire even though the first boy hadn't.

Then there are no police. The boys, once in their twenties, are now maybe ten. the look at a white flower growing in the dirt before the house. They are running: smiling and giggling, chasing each other across the land. The older one who was cow runs along a path of deep red clay that spirals perfectly up a hill. There is green grass to either side of the hill and the camera pans up and out until thirty feet directly above their playful bodies. It follows them as the run and laugh. The path makes some impossible turns and goes under some power lines.

The dream fades out as children run and play.