I dreamt I was a shepherd, last night.
I care for four steer and five wolves.
The wolves try to eat the cattle if I don’t pay attention.
But, the scenery is beautiful so it is no trouble.
I have a partner. We ride horses like cattle ranchers.
His face burned off in a fire.
He does not tell me what happened.
My sense is it occurred aeons ago.
He does not appear burnt. He looks like a sheet stretched over a face.
Smooth. No orifices where nostrils, mouth, eye sockets should be.
We drive our herd and pack along cliff sides.
We enter a tangle of a forest.
Dark bark and leaves of the deepest green.
It was just noon. The sun does not shine here despite the canopy cover being quite sparse.
It is quiet.
The trees become grayer.
We enter a corridor demarcated by maleficently gnarled trees.
I can spy a clearing situated on the opposite side.
It contains grotesque goats.
12 hands high with spiraling horns.
Their coats are filthy. Horrendous in volume and stringiness.
They graze on the plentiful grass.
Ripping it out of the earth like lions ripping muscles from felled prey.
I feel myself instinctively raising my attention.
There is no fear.
I think: this would make a good painting.