In the dream there were baby bluejays in my bag of potato chips. They were all covered in cheesy dust, eating the crumbs. I shook them out onto the ground and the dogs tried to eat the baby jays and I got on my hands and knees to keep the dogs away, but they’d already gotten one and were tearing it apart. Once on the ground I saw that there were little knots of baby things everywhere. Baby mice, tiny pigs, salamanders.
And dogs and birds and snakes coming in from the edges, swallowing them, ripping them apart.
Me on my knees, trying to save them.
Lately beer tastes really good. Wine, too.
I mean, really good.