Rough Cuts

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Copyright 2001 Bruce Ling


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Wolf Dreams

And what we dream, is it ourselves?

     I thought I was going insane!  It had been almost two months since the  nightmare had started, and it was effecting my daily life.  I was starting to hear them, even in the light of day.

     I start this nightly repetitious madness by standing on an overhang on a mountain ridge, looking out over miles and miles of mountain ridges. The storm front is visible, and heading my way.  I turn and head into a woods of pines and cedars, to a spot I've chosen to spend the night. I have already kindled a small fire, and prepared a bower of pine boughs and ferns to sleep on.

     In my dream, I am just dozing off when the lead edge of the storm front hits. First the freezing rain and then the sleet.  I'm awake in an instant, and futilely trying to maintain my fire.  I feel the temperature dropping fast, and I know my chances of survival are slim if I'm soaked when it starts to freeze.  It's at this point that I realize I'm treading very close to the edge.

     And then, from far off, I hear them.  Hungry and hunting, their baying draws closer.  I have no where to mount a defense, nor have I any weapons, I can only hope that they don't catch the scent of my recent fire or me.  The waiting is the worst.

     Suddenly, the lead wolf breaks around the bend in the trail, and I'm in view.  It appears as if an unending line of them keeps boiling from the bend, fanged jaws slavering ropes of saliva, maddening howls unceasing.  They're heading right at me, they're on me in a flash, and I feel the weight of them and the crunch of bone as I'm brought down.  At this point I wake myself with my own scream.

     One day, in an attempt to rid myself of this horror, I wrote it all down. I got as far as the freezing rain part of the nightmare that night when it ended.  The next day I put it to music, and the nightmare left me forever.

Choices past or those are taken.


by Bruce Ling 2-2002