The following is an actual dream included in my dream journal, and does not describe actual factsDream of: 13 August 2001 "Too Beautiful To Rot"
I was standing in the living room of the Gallia County Farmhouse, listening to my mother, who was standing in front of me and talking on the phone with my father. I could also hear my father’s harsh voice on the phone; he was upset because I had been with my mother for several days but I hadn't gone to see him. Nevertheless, he wanted to see "his son".
I soon walked out of the Farmhouse and began walking east along the gravel road which passes in front of the House. Part of the road had been flooded by Symmes Creek, which flows on the other side of the road, so that I was forced sometimes to swim along the road. By the time I reached the bend in the road, about 100 meters from the House, I was able to stand on dry land, and I turned right into the field beside the road.
No sooner had I stepped off the gravel road and onto the dirt road in the field, than I heard a noise behind me. I turned and saw a large animal about three meters from me. The animal had horns (which appeared to be broken) which resembled the horns of a moose, but I finally realized the animal was actually a deer which looked as if it might charge at me. I noticed another deer and finally I saw a whole herd of deer walking along the side of the hill, perhaps 10 meters from me. Many small fawns were in the herd. I tried to count all the deer, but there were too many.
Then I noticed what looked like a mountain lion or bobcat walking among the deer. A second larger animal, which I identified as a bobcat, began circling around behind me. Through the shrubs I could see the bobcat was ready to attack. In my hand I was carrying an antique rifle, the kind with a long hexagonal barrel. I thought I might be able to scare away the bobcat with the gun. I pointed the gun away from the bobcat – I didn't want to hit it – and I pulled the trigger. I was stunned when the shot rang out and the bobcat fell over – I hadn't intended to hit it, but I had. Somehow the bullet had shot out of the side of the gun and had hit the cat. Again I looked at the bobcat again. which had drug itself for a few meters on the ground before dying. It sported a beautiful white pelt with black spots. I thought I would carry the bobcat back to the Farmhouse and try to save the pelt. I really didn't want the pelt, but the pelt was too beautiful to simply let it lie in the field and rot.
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