The usual gang of canine owners were standing in the middle of China Creek Park this morning hoping that Rover would let us go home for a coffee, soon. Seth and I were discussing his dreams of the night before. He checks in with the Oracle for meaning and clarity of his nightly sojourns.

The Oracle is highly entertained with the dream antics of my neighbor. It turns out we sleep almost head to head, with only a thin wall between us. One morning in the spring we found out that we had shared a dream about turtles. Now we check to see if that event will reoccur.

This morning it turns out Seth had been seduced by an alien in his dream. The Oracle was enthralled with the tale as usual, because the imagery of dreams is functionally vague and indicative of the true meaning behind the adventure. This time there was no “Technicolor” which means that the action carries the message. The dream started out like most of Seth’s nightly adventures, a magical mystery tour.

He had been walking through a strange neighborhood, when his dog Wolfie took a shortcut down this unfamiliar alley. As Seth rounded the corner, he realized that he had entered a mystical garden complete with splashing fountains.

A woman in a ground floor bay window was motioning to him. When he approached her, he realized that her breasts were bare, he became excited and came close. She was quite attractive with large firm brown nipples hanging like sweet ripe fruits only inches from his mouth.

As he listened to her encourage him to come in for a visit, he was drawn by her inviting smiling mouth and the antics of her lively tongue. Seth became aroused and climbed directly into her bedroom through the window.

David and I had drawn close so as not to miss the details of what was proving to be quite a stimulating encounter, although nothing Alien had yet been discussed. Suddenly Seth drew our attention to the antics of a crow, perhaps a hundred feet over our heads, maybe 200 feet to the west of us over the steep slope of the Park.

At first I thought that might have broken a wing in mid-flight, because of the way it tumbled out of control. It regained flight at the last second and climbed back up to its original position.

Once the altitude was regained, it again seemed to encounter structural failure as gravity grabbed it and drew it down. These strange happenings took place over a long two minutes. Then the Crow landed near a park bench much frequented by meth and crack addicts. He began pecking at the ground. We all came to see what it was eating.

The crow was reluctant to back away and charged us repeatedly. Evidence still remained in the form of a minute sprinkling of a white crystal powder amongst the Colonel Sander’s wrappers. It was clear that this fellow was one of the growing numbers of crows addicted to crack in this city.

They are an increasing, belligerent, menace to the defenseless, human addicts whom they target in co-coordinated rip-offs. Our health care system, reputed to be among the best in the world, is being burdened by an escalating number of victims of violent avian attacks. We quickly retreated as other crows swarmed in to devour the meager drug leavings.

The birds had that crazy, gang-alpha-rap thing going and seemed ready to attack us for more crack. It was time to go home for a coffee.