I dreamt I was under siege last night.

Like Bell Rock.

But ages before.

The rocks were boulders of dingy khaki and earl gray.

Choppy and round, not leveled and smoothed.

But, they too, like the current iteration, remain cool to the touch,

despite constant exposure to the pressure of the sun.

I do no know why I am here, nor why I am being fired upon.

I wear a sleeveless red, knee length dress which renders me a sitting duck visually, per se.

I have on my “clown shoes” as I call them in this reality.

The pair of red, canvas slip ons are not conducive to scaling mountain goat terrain quickly.

Rocks, boulders, are being launched at me by wooden catapults operated by an unseen foe.

I hear them screaming through the air before my eyes can see them.

This is the best advantage I have.

I can look where I am going while feeling assured I will hear the threat.

No need to look for the threat.

I drop to the fetal position under the precipice of a nearby boulder, if available.

I think. If I had an umbrella in the colors of the rocks around me, that might be handy.

Such umbrella appears in my hand.

This is a dream: I think.

I try the umbrella method during the next assault.

They lose me in their scope.

I believe they are hopeful they struck me down and thus can no longer see me.

I leap to feet

too soon,

spoiling the very advantage I just created.

I hear the next rock scream.

Howl. Bad bit of terrain beneath my feet.

This umbrella could deflect the projectile: I imagine.

I open it, crouch down.

My braced arms withstand the pressure of the incoming’s rock momentum.

It bounces off the imagined shield.

I feel like I have won the battle.