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LB: My best friend from my sophomore year in high school. A prolific writer, she's the one who sparked my own desire to write.

 

The Observer
01-10-1996
A small hill path wound down into a valley ahead. By the sun above, it was sometime in the late afternoon. During this entire dream, I was an observer... invisible to the other characters... which is strange because I'm usually a main player in my dreams.

Some soldiers had captured an Indian brave and were marching him to a strange looking building in the small valley ahead. The Indian, who was quite handsome, had both wrists bound by strong leather cords. He had been tied for some time because his wrists were bleeding. As they approached the last rise before heading into the valley, they passed a small ledge cut into the hill to the left of the trail. There, sitting in the depression, was a girl. She may have been a friend of mine from high school... LB... though, I'm not sure. They did not seem to notice her either and she watched them pass silently.

Blackout.

Hours passed since the last part of the dream and it was now dawn. The Indian stood on a ledge overlooking another valley. The ledge where the girl had observed was behind him. The air was electric and I could feel that something was happening. The Indian lifted his bound arms into the air above his head and snapped the cords. Then the girl was suddenly beside me and said quietly, in almost a whisper "He is finally free...."

Blackout.

More hours passed and it was now night. The Indian stood on the side of a steep hill as he watched a large furry animal move in the night. I couldn't tell what it was, though I thought it was a small black bear. Suddenly, the Indian leapt down the hill like an animal and caught the bear.

My view changed and I could now watch him try to bite into it's neck and kill it as a predator would. However, he didn't have much luck, since his teeth were not that of a predators. The animal wasn't struggling but, finally, it seemed bored or fed up with this human trying to "kill" it. So, it escaped the Indian's grasp and ran up the hill a little ways.

The brave was left with nothing but fur and blood on his mouth. The Indian demanded it come back... it stopped and turned around, no longer wounded. Suddenly, I could see it clearly... it was a grey wolf. It seemed to look right at me as the shock of this information sank in. There was a connection between us for a moment before it turned, reached the top of the hill, and then loped off without a second look back.

All the while, the Indian screamed for it to come back.

End.