I was walking through the woods with my great uncle, who I call Unc. He’s a retired FBI agent. I hope that doesn’t blow his cover. Anyways, we were walking through the woods, next to a river. The water was brown, like chocolate milk. We needed to cross it, but were not in the mood for a swim, so we decided to use the rocks, whose heads were sticking out of the chocolate milk in various places. I was hopping from rock to rock, trying to avoid falling in, when I noticed something in the water.
It seemed to be an animal of some sort, but I couldn’t make out what kind. It was not like any animal I had ever seen; large, brown fur, kind of funny looking. Also, something was wrong. The animal wasn’t swimming. It was drowning, and it seemed that it had been struggling for a while and it was reaching it’s final fight.I told Unc we had to help it and he agreed wholeheartedly.
We got closer and realized the strange, drowning animal was a kangaroo; very strange for these parts! It was hard to hear each other over the raging water but I yelled something to the extent of, “We have to save it!” Unc looked at me and nodded, pulled a gun out of his waist band, and aimed it at the kangaroo. I yelled, “WAIT?!” because that was really not what I had in mind. Unc tried to tell me it was the right thing to do because the kangaroo was suffering, and the most humane thing would be to put it out of his misery, because he feared there was no way we could save a panicking, drowning kangaroo.
After a little discussion, I convinced Unc that we should at least try and save it first. I looked down and the kangaroo had almost completely given up it’s fight for life. I looked back at Unc, and just as I did, he dove in. I was thrilled. I jumped in after him. Now, one might think a drowning animal would attack you when trying to save it, maybe not on purpose but from sheer panic, but by the time we got over to him, he seemed ready to be saved. It was much easier than I ever dreamed it could be to save a drowning kangaroo, I mean, despite the fact that it was a large, heavy, limp, fur ball, offering no help.
We got the kangaroo to the river bank. I was thrilled to see he was still breathing. He looked up at me and we made eye contact. It was really surreal. He seemed grateful. And this is where it got weird! The kangaroo turned into a little ten-year-old (homeless) Brazilian boy. Unc made a comment about how I was the one who wanted to save him, so I was now responsible for him, not really even seeming to see anything special in the fact that the kangaroo who we had just saved from drowning had magically morphed into a human child.
I took the kid into the small cabin where we were staying; let him dry off, gave him some clean warm clothes, turned on the tv for him, and made him some food. I sat and chatted with him for a while, as he ate. He spoke very good English. After hearing the hectic story of how he ended up in the river, and even in America in the first place, I realized that, indeed, the right thing to do would be to let this kid stay with me. He was happy with that. Everything went pretty good, with him settling in, but a few days later I realized he had gotten into my Facebook account and posted tons of random Disney movie trailers, and Youtube videos of cats and dogs doing silly little tricks on all my friends walls. Who knew he even knew about Facebook?!
We had a discussion about how that’s not appropriate behavior and he handled it well, and not too long after that I woke up. I dare you to try and analyze THAT dream!