Snake Eyes

My dad had the most bizarre dream. He was having a foot-slog w/ his uncle thru the meadows and dells when they came upon a man catching snakes in a serpentine river. His uncle said he was going to help because it was a gratifying day. Dad stopped quick as if the indistinguishable snakes became his spine, and said solicitously, "you can't get in that water w/ all them snakes." His uncle proceeded, undeterred and unafraid, down the bank into the murky water like a warrior snake junkie. Although dad had a snake phobia, and his mantra had always been, "I hate snakes," he had a strange urge to cross to the other side of the sinewy river; one being a fugitive from oneself. So his uncle suggested that he would piggyback him across, albeit thru a calm temperament. He was holding a snake and dad said, "you have to drop that damn snake first." His venerable uncle replied, "it's dead, it won't hurt you." Cautiously, dad hopped up on his back and to his utter shock, the snake wickedly lunged and bit him on his big toe. In paroxysms of rage, he was screaming, "get it off, get it off."

During removal, indeed "a most dangerous game", it swung around and got him on the hand too, like a calculated deja vu of sibilated hiss. Venom arched thru his aggrieved veins like hot embers of lava; it was the bite of forbidden fruit. They, in a clumsy and nervous manner, rushed him to the hospital, where his leg started changing colors like a crystal prism. The staff were lackadaisical in responding so he moaned w/ cognoscente appeal, "can we put a little hurry on it so that my heart doesn't stop?" With outright hesitation, they finally started to examine him and said, "we'll have to put you under for the procedure." With tremulous fear, he demanded to know why. They said, "because we'll have to peel the skin back and pour vinegar in you leg."

Luckily he awoke before the remedy, before the untangling of Medusa's hair. However, upon waking, his arm was hurting and he searched for fang marks. He asked me why we have crazy dreams. I said, "I think they're intended to relieve stress." Or maybe it's latent manifestations of our mental abyss, w/ depths that we aren't supposed to access nor figure out. Problem is that when we remember our dreams, it's like a crazy-meter alarm clock that we wake to. And for now, he only wants to dream of a nice fitting pair of snakeskin boots.