Field Dream 22.04.21
I found myself in a field. I knew the field. There were two intersecting roads lined with hedgerows bordering the field. A few dead crops coated the rain-saturated soil. I was accompanied by an ex-girlfriend who was boasting about the shenanigans her and her now boyfriend had been getting up to. She was telling me about a time they had bathed in a swamp and drunk the water before realising there was a dead lamb rotting in there with them. I was wearing a bucket on my head and mugs on my hands to try and impress her but she didn’t seem amused. I saw a box of forks on the floor and knelt down to pick it up with my mug hands and she shouted “STOP! Don’t touch that it might be dirty.” Pretty rich coming from her I thought.
We were looking for a place. I wasn’t sure what the place was but it was familiar. I think we were returning somewhere. The sky was littered with dying birds, mainly seagulls flying around in circles who were also looking for something. Their malted feathers rained down on us but they fell faster and heavier than normal feathers. Occasionally a seagull would swoop down near the ground giving us a chance to better examine their state. They seemed to be in pain and deprived of something. What that thing was we weren’t sure but I assume that’s what they were searching for. We heard a distant noise promising life beyond one of the hedge rows and decided to walk towards it. We would have to cross a road on the way.
I spotted a big sad vulture, the size of a three-storey house, walking along the road. It was round and bloated, like a puffer fish, and had very few remaining feathers. His skin was burnt and blistered and he held himself in a sad manner. He plodded along slowly letting out a depressed sigh with each step. I felt that he was trying to cry but he had no liquid left in his body. He too was searching for a place but it seemed that he had been searching so long that he had little hope of finding the place. A few normal sized vultures also featherless were circling around his head hoping for him to keel over so that they could feed on his withered body.
We arrived at the road to cross and looked both ways even though we hadn’t heard any cars. We spotted a horse in the distance galloping towards us. My ex looked at me, eyes wide open slowly whispering “doooon’t let it hiiiiit yoooouuu”. I didn’t move and the horse ran straight over me. I got up, finished crossing the road and got into the next field where we carried on our search. I didn’t complain once about having been trampled by a horse and yet my ex still kept telling me to stop whining and man up.