February 1st

I dreamed in the wee hours
of a troll
– long-limbed, preternaturally slender, covered in long hair, with two glowing spots –
under a bridge.

(the exit 10 bridge on Route 89)

And suddenly I was afraid and perceived him as several, and human, and terrifying in that way.

My voice of reason reminded me of two very important things:

First, how to defend myself: when one is inside and in control of a ton and a half of both armor and battering ram, there are ways; then get on the highway South because Exit 9 is well populated.

Second, that the danger I perceived was my own projection. If I stopped and really looked, it was not a scary gang. In truth, it was just a troll signaling for help, a cosmic neighbor crash-landed and panicking.

First aid for blue leaking fluids is simply first aid, and I called state police to help with towing and helping him get checked for a concussion.