The low, bright winter sun shines upon us now after nearly two weeks of cold, wet greyness. It’s January, and I’m out picking pecans off the ground under the one native tree that produces nuts big and tasty enough to make up for the laborious job of both cracking and shelling each one of them.
These pecans shouldn’t really be any good; by this late in the season they’re usually not, at least around here. Yet these are wonderful.
As I bend and pick, I’m thinking of an unusually vivid dream I had two weeks ago or so, involving my dog, Bosco.
Bosco has caught and fought, and killed, a fair range of critters in his days, but he’s never managed to dispatch a squirrel despite the large population on our property. Yet in the dream, Bosco carried a squirrel body in his mouth, tossed it in the air and tore out chunks of its fur. He was making a mess, and in the dream I tried to take the body away from him, but he was having none of it. Then the dream ended. That’s all there was to it.
About three days later, I drove up the driveway with my daughter, whom I’d brought back from music lessons, when the two of us saw Bosco dive into the bushes along our fence. I parked the car and got out, heard a squeaking, and saw that the dog was trying to get a good grip on a squirrel, while the squirrel was biting the dog in the nose. Unable to shake it by the neck, Bosco chewed up the rest of the squirrel body and spit it out briefly after suffering another nose bite. I quickly put the thing out of its misery as it otherwise was going to die a slower and more painful death.
The dog grabbed the lifeless body and started trotting around with it as if it were a trophy, tossing it in the air, picking it back up and generally keeping it out of my reach. I finally was able to separate him and his catch, and put it into a garbage bag for disposal. Later, we dabbed some disinfectant onto his nose wounds.
So it is that I apparently dreamed a little chunk of the future, which later came to pass. What, I wonder as I carry my pecans back to the house, is up with that?
“Things always happen for a reason,” I will hear someone say occasionally. But I beg to differ.