© Bruce Goodman 19 June 2015
What an extraordinary dream I had last night. This duck – it was a quack-quack duck – it was all white. It had these little ducklings. About six of them. It took them underneath the house. They were little yellow ducklings. And then the cat followed them under the house.
I had to save the little ducklings from the cat, so I crawled underneath the house.
Then the cat caught one of the little ducklings and I tried to steal it back from the cat to save the duckling. But the mother duck was all protective and thought it was me that was attacking her baby. I had to grab the duck around the neck to save myself, because she’d turned into a great big ferocious mallard duck and she was pecking me to bits. I grabbed her neck and strangled it. I had to. I had to do that to save myself. The mother duck kept smashing me with her wings. Smashing me. Smashing me. And the more she smashed the tighter I squeezed her neck. Until she was dead.
And this morning when I woke up I found I’d strangled my wife.