Today I sought little retreats, looking for pockets of space where bursts of sound grew blunt from whipping around corners to reach me.

The weeks of humidity finally released their sweaty grip and fell wilted to the ground like wet clay, letting go of our soggy hides. I stepped outside with Lily and she was ready to lope down the road without heat swaying heavily on her back.

We returned for the rest of my hiking group: HersheyBanditOzzie. Go find Lily!

In the woods stepping across worn soil and crushed leaves I see our path. I pick out stones reaching up from the ground and land on them seconds before momentum carries me to the next rocky spot in sight.

The dogs are good and stay close, often turning back and looking at me. Running, I snag spider webs branches leaves a bug buzzing against my cheek eyelid ear. I keep moving and hit the hill. Ozzie will often find a gentler slope to the top, but I scramble each time. If I can reach the outcropping of mossy stone in time I'll watch Bandit slide like a tan shadow through a forest tinted with browned leaves and exposed earth. He is heading for the same tiny plateau of low growing wild blueberries that grab like baby's finger at my hiking boots and laces -- nothing demanding, just curious.

In a dream I see puppies born, slick and free -- waiting to suck in air. Fingers pluck at strands of mucus. I look for the little thing's nose. I hear it puff and inhale. It is black and white with a blue umbilical cord that appears as an electrical wire. Reaching to cut it I hear, don't!

It was only a dream and I don't know how the puppies are or who yelled, don't.

I never know if dreams are befores or afters. Is a thing on our mind so much that we dream out the anxiety before something happens, or is it lingering feelings for things unresolved and hanging in pictures above our heads. Are dreams the smoke in our clothes after the campfire has faded, or the last turn that remains to our destination? Anyone who says dreams do not mean anything does not give his mind enough credit, or does not pay attention to the neglected thing in his head screaming while the television casts watery metallic light into an unblinking stare.