I was in the big old farmhouse we lived in when I was a little girl. It was summer and the doors were open. A deer, a beautiful doe, walked in and started climbing the stairs to the second floor. She was quite large and her hoofs made clomping noises on the wooden steps. But she wasn’t scary. She had elegant, slim legs and shining, soft brown eyes.
It didn’t seem so awfully strange. We often saw deer in the yard…and bunnies…and foxes…and other critters. It was the country, after all.
Then a huge stag walked in. He had massive antlers that were blackened at their points, tufts of black fur ringing his legs and an evil expression surrounding his eyes. He started following me through the rooms, living room, dining room, his antlers brushing against the crystals dangling from the chandelier. I was quite frightened….
…and then I woke up, disoriented but safely tucked into my futon.
I can’t imagine where those images came from. I haven’t been to that house in forty years and I’ve never seen a real deer like that stag…or maybe I have, in a zoo somewhere, sometime…but not anytime recently.
How very strange.