“Catch it, sweetheart! Get it!” I was small, maybe five or six, and a beachBall was sailing in my direction. It was like I was watching myself from above, aware of myself but in the small version of my brain. The ball flew offcorse, into some bushes, where it bounced off what appeared to be a twig, but the twig connected to a muzzle, and ears. It was the stag that I’d saw.... in a dream? I don’t know. The ball then flopped to the ground, punctured. the little me didn’t care. She stumbled to the stag, who didn’t run. Instead he lowered his great head and the little me patted his nekk (soz couldn’t help spieling it like that) and everything dissolved into white again.
MEEEEEEE
