Caribou & Cottontails.

December 10, 2009: I dreamed last night that I was the (female) Chief of an African tribe of about twelve people. We were on the move, following the migrating caribou across a rolling, frosty landscape. There were large rock formations (like cliffs), so as to allow corners for our tribe to lose the caribou scent. The land was somehow on the playground of Fairview Elementary. As I walked, bandy-legged, at the front of the scattered group, my nose stopped sharply.

"I've lost the scent."

Everybody stopped and looked around nervously.

"Three of you," I said with a light wave of my dark hand, "go ahead and regain our track."

Four large men immediately ran forth, turning a sharp corner past a large, gray cliff (in the same place as the Fairview building). We began our slow walk again. As I turned the corner, I saw three or so men sitting on benches, laughing, and caribou family less than fifty yards away.

"What the hell are you doing?" I hissed as I ran crouching, waving my thin arms like a goose in the men's direction.

They weren't a part of my clan, but I had a lot of authority over all the lands.

"You must keep your filthy mouths closed, can't you see the caribou not a stone's throw away from you? Stand up, get out of here, go home to make yourselves useful."

The men stopped smiling and chatting, and obediently slinked back around the corner.

I scowled and continued walking, motioning for my tribe to follow. The landscape changed again, we were walking up Fairview Street and it was late, the houses were still there, and the caribou were trotting dutifully up the street. Before we got to 80th, it changed yet again. The homes were gone, though 80th Avenue was still there. There was scrub brush here and there, a few large trees, a small pond. It felt like what could have been there if the area had never been developed. As I neared 80th, I saw we were very close to the caribou, who already seemed to have passed the street. I waited for the line of traffic to clear and jumped across the street. The other side of 80th was also clear of houses and covered in light-colored, bare bushes except for a cement path that the caribou were using. As I neared the herd, I saw that they weren't in fact walking away, but headed towards our own tribe. Somehow this wasn't the same group we had been following. So they will jump directly into our hungry mouths! I thought excitedly as I backtracked across the street to still my own people.

After I crossed the street, my tribe had turned into caribou themselves. There were young fawns, graying, older caribou, mothers and fathers. As I turned to look back across the street, I saw that the actual herd of caribou had turned into a colony of brown cotton tails. We, both groups, stared at each other from both sides of the busy street. All of our small tails were wigging excitedly, as if two groups of old friends had met. I stood there happily, a human among prey animals, tall, dark, and smiling. An amazing natural occurence, I thought, and turned to walk away, back down the path I had come.

Before I did, I looked back to see that the animals had met halfway between the street. The cars had stopped to watch, and I thought the drivers must be enjoying it as much as I was. Then, a male driver in a white SUV threw his hands up in exasperation and drove right over the socializing animals. I saw them flattened, I cried out, and woke up.