What’s it all about, Alfie?
Had a dream last night/this morning in which my mother and I were going to take some friends of mine to the Bronx Zoo. When my mother was looking for directions, I told her she was wrong to look for the zoo in the Bronx. “Everyone knows it’s in Brooklyn,” I said.
Everyone left me to go get ready for the zoo (incidentally, I detest zoos–they are horrible and depressing and my heart bleeds for the poor creatures). I sat outside at a picnic table near a farm. Part of the road between the table and the farm was washed out and the sky was ominously overcast. A dog, filthy with mud and wet, came bounding down from the barn and jumped over the washed out part of the road and came up to me. It looked to be part Greyhound and part Welsh Terrier. It’s muzzle was wet and muddy but I let it stuff it into my face anyway.
I liked the dog but it made me anxious as it kept running around and around the table as I sat there. Then I woke up.