All night, I sawed the log. Twelve hours of non-lucid dreams.
I open my front door and a little, mangey, wiry grey Australian shepherd pretty much falls inside my flat. S/he had been curled up as close to my door as possible, sheltering from some storm. Waking up when the door opens, the dog crawls inside, jumps up on my futon, shows me its belly, and gives me those eyes: Please. I’m not going back out there.
Then, I woke up.
I guess it’s the pup’s turn to soujurn in my dreamland heaven, the Landgrave I build and to which I retire.
Must be my turn to tend the fields.
I wonder how long the poor fellow covered the herd while this shepherd slept.