The Fox.

I have been having the most incredible dreams, lately. I can’t stop. Every night, I am barraged by a swirl of colorful scenes. The stories differ, but the aim is always the same. Find the fox, ask the question before I wake up.

Elusive is this game. Sometimes, I have dreamt for what feels like hours before I remembered what I was looking for. There is a question that I must ask the fox, but it seems foolish to attempt to explain the question in the light of day. At night, asking the fox the question is the only thing that matters.

The tempo of my dreams are changing. The stakes feel higher. Grandly appointed buildings, full of lovely people framed the backdrop of my dreams… at first. The structures I see now, when I see them, are always in a state of decay–long abandoned by human touch. My dreams have become completely devoid of other people. Before, I could go many nights catching only quick glimpses of the fox, or sometimes not even seeing the fox at all, but simply feeling that the fox was close. Now, it is only me and the fox. Every night, the chase is on.

Last night, I awoke in a dark, ancient forest and immediately set out in search of the fox. The floor of the forest was dense with gnarled, sprawling roots from trees–trees so tall and thick that they blotted out the night sky. In neon hues of pinks, blues, and greens, the twinkle of alien creatures lit my path. Flourescent lights often serve as a warning to would-be aggressors… but the creatures seemed content to flit and preen and creep and slither paying no attention to me.

I am getting closer to the fox. Last night, I chased relentlessly, and I came close. So close. Maybe tonight I will ask the fox my question.