I lay in bed reading before going to sleep. Fleegle is stretched out on the bed, his paws twitching as he barks softly in his sleep. I put the book down on the nightstand and turn off the light, then click on the clock radio in sleep-mode and listen to two men discuss the approach of Planet-X and its significance on crop circles. Their voices are monotonous and soothing and I’m soon asleep.
Just as I wake from dreams in the mornings, I wake into a dream when asleep. I’m flying high above the bucolic English countryside with nothing but my will to fly as propulsion and my skinny arms as wings. It has been a while since I had a flying dream and I’m enjoying swooping through the air like a sparrow when I notice a giant crop circle below me. I fly higher for a better vantage point.
The crop circle is bigger than a football field and in the shape of a humongous Labrador retriever, complete with overflowing food bowl.
I catch movement in the corner of my eye. “Hey, what are you doing here?” Fleegle asks, now flying next to me, his floppy ears acting as wings. “This is my dream.”
“Aren’t you the one who’s always telling me to share?” I say.
“Yeah, but that’s your burrito or your cottage cheese, but if you think you’re up to experiencing Fleegle World, you’re more than welcome to share my dream. Are you?”
“Up to it? Sure.”
“You might not want to decide that so flippantly, we’re approaching the Chocolate Rockies.”
“What? Mountains made of chocolate?”
Looming ahead are what can only be described as a range of mountain size dog behinds, all with their snowcapped tails, waiving furiously, high in the sky.
My eyes bug out. “Oh my.”
“They’re very happy mountains,” Fleegle says and pours on the speed. “You can guess what’s on the other side.”
Not in Fleegle World. “No, tell me.”
“A mud puddle the size of an ocean the mountains drink from. Why else would they be so happy?”