The gray lamb was still in the brambles, but Noe was in the clearing in his dream. He sat on the leaves and patted the hole in his stomach. Flowers were growing very plentifully inside. He plucked several and smelled them. They smelled just like raspberry flowers. He ate one. It tasted exactly like a raspberry flower. He waited for something to happen, but he didn’t know what he ought to expect. He clenched a handful of grass in his fist and ripped it out of the ground. The gray lamb bounded in from out of the shadows and nosed his hand. It whispered to him. “Feed me that grass,” it said. Noe did this. “Now follow me, young man.” Noe did this.
They walked together toward the edge of the clearing until the lamb stopped suddenly. “Turn around. What do you see?”
Noe looked at the clearing. There was the mound of leaves, the small bit of grass he tore out of the ground, a circle of petals, the vial. Samara.
“Now, go get the samara and the vial. These are symbolic of things you are clearing out of your consciousness. You are, per usual, asleep, but you won’t wake up just yet.” The lamb opened its mouth. Noe placed some of the pine seeds and the vial in the lamb’s mouth. “Yes,” it said. “Now, walk with me.” They walked into the woods. The lamb disappeared behind a tree. “But, young man with the hole in his stomach, I have not disappeared behind a tree. You won’t be able to see me here. I am only visible in there.” Something near his feet rustled. “I will erase that place.”
Noe was afraid, and the voice of the lamb was not comforting. He indicated his fear with his thoughts. “Hush,” said the lamb. “You see, I have eaten you, but you couldn’t possibly realize it yet. Don’t think yourself a fool for this. You simply couldn’t have known.” The lamb laughed a bit, which caused the woods to tremble. “You are dreaming.” The lamb seemed to whisper in Noe’s ear, “I am also dreaming. We are dreaming together, you having been eaten by me. Now, walk that way.” Light rose in the woods, revealing the moss on the trees. “North,” said the lamb. Noe followed the moss.
He walked for what seemed like hours until he came to a small, odorless flower. It grew slightly as he approached. It was slightly pink with a deep red center. Its petals flexed gingerly against one another and arranged to form some kind of mouth analog. When the flower spoke, it was the voice of the lamb. “This is not what you think.”