I shall write of a dream...

The picture is in sepia-tone. There is a hay covered hill with a rutted dirt driveway going up. Halfway up the hill is a big old two story house with wraparound porch. The paint has chipped away mostly, leaving bare weathered wood siding, I'm not even sure that it's not condemned. The driveway continues up the hill past the house. I'm at the bottom of the hill, and trudging upward with a sense of heaviness, and boredom mixed with stoicism. I walk past the house and continue up the hill. There are concrete rectangular pools of murky water, about 10' by 5'. I start feeding my alligators. I know they won't harm me, they are dependent on me. I walk on top of the cement dividers, and throw the food in measures into each pool. I know the alligators are watching me, and I feel annoyed about having to take care of them, but it's a necessary chore. If I stop feeding them then they will be justified in doing me harm, so I take care of them. But I don't have to like it... When I am done, I walk back down to the house. Everything is broken inside. The screen door is hanging off one hinge. The foyer table only has three legs so it's propped against the wall. I put my purse down there on that table. But EVERYTHING in this house is broken in one way or another. Still functioning, but broken. I look into the kitchen from the foyer and through it to the backyard. I have set up all the picnic tables back there in anticipation of company for Thanksgiving dinner. I have set all the food out and it looks beautiful, the wind gently sways the tablecloths and I see a perfectly roasted turkey and all the trimmings, I'm just waiting on company. Suddenly I notice a mound of dirt, then another. It's the damned alligators. They are wearing the mounds of dirt as disguises to sneak up on the Thanksgiving meal. This just really makes me irritated and I decide to finally do something about them: I'm going to shoot them. So I go upstairs to the bedroom where the old man and old woman are still sleeping, and I open the big wooden wardrobe/gun cabinet. I have stocks with no barrels, I have barrels with no stocks, I have rifles without bullets, and bullets that fit no rifles. Everything is broken and I can't put two things together to accomplish this. I look up in the dark and I see a snake trying to crawl up into the bed with the old man and old woman, so I reach out and grab it right behind the head. I squeeze it's head this way and it flexes but it won't squeeze off. I squeeze it's head that way and it flexes but it won't squeeze off. Suddenly I know that I can't squeeze it's head off but I CAN cut it's head off with my silver knife. I look up and ask a boy who's standing there to go get me my purse off the foyer table. He returns with my purse. With one hand I dump the contents on the floor. I have knives - a black one, no, a serrated one, no, all kinds of knives but not my Silver one. How can I cut this snake's head off without my Silver knife! AAAARGH! I stand up, so frustrated, so angry, so powerful, I just can't take it anymore! I blast off through the ceiling with all my destructive energy that I hope the house collapses and implodes. I'm so outta here.