All that is gone now.
The cottage was sold and torn down, which is a real shame because by Canadian standards it was a historical building (built for my great grandfather, W. J. Loudon, in 1900 by a French Canadian barn builder called Joe Nault). The old building had rough hewn boards. Big, thick ones, like something you’d expect in Shakespeare’s time. Or maybe Game of Thrones.
Anyhow, in my dream I am up there again. I dream about the place fairly often because the cottage was on an unimaginably beautiful island. And as a child, the site was isolated from the buzz of cars, electricity, phones and TV. A real back to nature experience. One that is indelibly stamped in memory. And nothing, except perhaps the forgetfulness of age, could take that away from me (In my gravatar I’m sitting on the island’s PreCambrian rocks… older than the Egyptian pyramids).
In the dream I see a frog. A weasel comes out and begins chasing it. The frog leaps under a low wooden porch so the weasel can’t get it. The weasel just stands there, staring stupidly at the frog.
Then the frog turns angrily and opens its jaws sooooo wide and swallows the weasel. The enraged frog’s face inflates like a green balloon to swallow the weasel. The weasel can’t believe it. But it is toast.
Then I see a thin black snake leap straight up about 10 feet into the air. I feel danger, don’t want to get bitten by the snake, so I run and awake unscathed.
Moral of this story?
I’m not entirely sure. It’s pretty rich in symbolism. But the obvious point that stands out is:
Don’t underestimate your prey. Or you may become prey yourself!