Dream of: 05 June 2004 "Happy White Goat"

As my pet Dalmatian Picasso and I were passing through a country field, I suddenly realized several lions were in the field. I was somehow familiar with these lions, almost as if they belonged to me, and I wasn't particularly concerned they would attack me. However, I did fear the lions might hurt Picasso, and I hurried to the nearest fence, opened a wire gate and with Picasso, stepped through to a second field on the other side.

When I turned around toward the gate to fasten it (turning my back on Picasso), one lion in the first field walked up to the other side of the fence and I lowered my left hand to its nose. The lion took my fingers in its mouth and began lightly nibbling them. I was wary, aware the lion could rip off my fingers if it wanted, but I allowed it to mouth my fingers a while longer, until I finally pulled my hand away.

When I turned back around to resume my walk through the second field, Picasso had disappeared. I immediately became alarmed, especially when I spotted two lions in the second field. The lions were male, but they had no manes, and they were a gray color, rather than brown. They scurried ahead of me, so fast I quickly lost sight of them. I didn't know if they had followed me through the wire gate while I had passed through, or if they had already been in the second field.

I ran across the second field, into a rocky ravine. I had a grave presentment of what I was about to find, and suddenly up ahead of me, I saw one lion, atop the ridge of the ravine, chewing on something white. I ran toward the lion and screamed, aching because I knew the lion had killed Picasso.

The lion dropped its mouthful and ran off. I rushed up to the spot and picked up the remains of what I assumed to be Picasso. He had been reduced to no more than a flat piece of cardboard partially wrapped in cellophane and partially chewed. On the face of the cardboard was a partial image of Picasso's head -- only the image resembled more the head of a white goat than the head of Picasso. I had seen this image before: it was exactly like the image of a happy white goat which I had seen in a painting by Marc Chagall. I starred at the torn image, mourning my loss.

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