October 5, 2006
The third dream: I am in the woods with my father, but he has gone somewhere, maybe disappearing to take a piss. Old timber, I can barely make out patches of sky through the canopy. I'm ankle deep in maple leaves. Standing at a stream, I'm watching the water as it runs over a flat stone covered with waving algae and into a shallow depression lined with green leaves, water swirling, sparkling. Upstream a buck is drinking. Farther upstream a dead and bloated hound lies in the water. The wind picks up batting sharp leaves against my face.