Why?

One winter night a few years ago, I found myself dreaming. It was a long dream; a fantastical tale of love, in which the Devil made a dramatic appearance. The dream all took place in a little tiny village in the mountains of (?) obviously some hundreds of years ago.




The dream was in rhyme. The Devil had some remarkably witty lines. I was both amused, and impressed ... and asleep.

But something woke me. A cat? A shadow? I can't say. But awake, the dream stayed with me.

I got out of bed, and poured a drink; picked up a pencil and wrote down what I could remember. A year later, I'd more-or-less reconstructed the story... but only in the manner of a primitive trying to recreate the image of the angel he had seen, out of mud and straw. This is my humble attempt to recreate a dream