Fishing with Indians

April 1994

(I dreamt the other night I was also fishing with Keith, but did not write it down. Maybe that is why I dreamt it again??)

An old, dirty, dumb man was next to us. He said if we were going fishing he knew where to get good worms. I went with him to a small stream and started to dig. Keith left. I had got what I wanted, and the man asked if I was fishing today. I said it was not a good day, and we probably were not allowed on a day like this. He told me there was a way to find out. He said just go to the other side of the lake and look for a small sign posted on a tree telling you the rules. I went.

The lake was more like a very large swamp. The water was brown and muddy, little pads covered half the lake. It was surrounded by thick woods and I figured the best way to get to the other side would be to swim. Without much thinking I dove in and started. Halfway across, I realized I was scared shitless of being in this swamp. It looked as if anything could be in the water. I turned back, then realized, hell, I’m almost there, so I continued ahead.

I got to the shore and the bank was about 2-3 feet high and I tried to climb out of the water. The bank was very muddy, a dark black mud, it acted like quick sand. I struggled for a few moments, thinking I was never going to get up it, but eventually did. I walked a few feet and saw a lot of Indians siting around watching a film on a portable screen set up in the woods. Keith was there with them. When they saw me they laughed and Keith said that I was
actually thinking about fishing today. They all laughed even harder.

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