the stories we don't tell...dreaming

They stood together hunting in unrealistic proportions, the largest a grey wolf beside her a dog, then the lion, a bobcat, a domestic cat, a mole, a mouse.  It was the lion who scared me.  

Above them a winter orchard exploding with black bare branches, in place of hanging fruit soulless shadows (Death Eaters).  They were sleeping but if you looked them in the face their eyes would flicker red.  

Beyond the trees a sandy ridge-line tumbling steeply to the valley where a city wet and lit-up with skyscrapers repeating rose to meet low clouds.  It was unmistakably my city. Among the cluttered skyline of steel I searched for the lights of the Walker Center.  I would find its steady blue lights then lose sight of it and have to search for it again.  I watched rain turn to snow then I heard one of the black shadows groan.  The lion roared.  I was afraid.  I started making my way through wet clumps of last autumn's leaves rotting among the roots and drifts of dry crumbling snow towards the shelter of the house I could not see but I could feel and knew to be on the other side, somewhere.  Beyond the garden and the buried dog, beyond a clothesline, and slick matted grass.  I knew there were lights on casting orange shadows, something to drink, and a fire going- perhaps a red blanket and a book.

My footfalls warned the prey of the predators.  The pack turned to glare at me having lost them their meal; a wolf, a dog, the lion, a bobcat, a cat,a mole,a mouse.  It was the lion who scared me.  I quickened my pace to hopefully avoid being eating by him.  I could hear the storm coming at my back, the Death Eaters stirring to their morning of night.  The bobcat looked away from the rest seeing her chance, leaned over the cat and the mole and ate the mouse.  

....I woke up sick.