This week, I had a strange dream. I dreamed that Michael and I were observing mountains. We were standing behind what looked like debris of what probably had been a house on the outskirts of a city. Behind those debris, the city. Ahead of them, nature. Wild nature, in fact.
As we watched the mountains, I noticed a white wolf. The mountains were white too; the whole region was covered in snow. The wolf looked at me. It looked at me from the mountain, and although it was far away, it scared me. I was terribly frightened. I knew it would come for me. That wolf was faster than all other wolves, and I knew it would reach me soon.