There is a big, u-shaped dock jutting out into a lake.
A concrete feed trough runs in the center of the dock. The inside part of the dock has been made stable enough for cattle to walk on. Cows are coming in from the bank on the inside to feed at the trough. Along the outside of the dock the footing is roped-together floating logs. It rocks as I walk on it.
I am feeding the cows from the outside unstable rim of the dock. The cattle feed is stored on the bank to the left of the dock. I have a bucket large enough to feed three cows at a time. It is so heavy when full that the dock sinks beneath me as I heft it up to the lip of the trough. I let it rest on the rim (it's too heavy for me to hold that high) as I walk along pouring it out evenly in front of 3 cows.
Then I have to return to refill the bucket. I am hurrying because I know that if I am too slow the first cows fed will finish and push the unfed cows away as I bring more feed. This feels like a very routine procedure. Each trip takes longer, as I am working my way over toward the right side of the U and returning to the left for more feed.
Two young children begin playing on the dock as I work, a girl and boy. The boy begins climbing on the feed trough. I switch to a smaller bucket so that I can control the swing of it as I feed. I don't want to accidentally hit him. Now I can only feed one cow per trip.
Next, I am on the left bank of the dock with my boss. We want to get to the right of the U-dock. Instead of walking all the way around on the unstable dock, we decide to cut straight across the rocks of the bank.
I lead, and soon after we start I see a copperhead strike the sole of his right boot. I realize that there are copperheads lying amongst all the rocks. I urge him to hurry. He is too slow. He begins to sit down on a rock that I see a huge snake coming out from behind.
I had thought that the original bite didn't penetrate his shoe. My realization that he stopped because he was bitten is instantaneous to this second snake striking him in his left buttock.
Somehow, I get him up on the right bank away from the rocks and snakes. I go up on the dock to phone for help. The setting here on the bank is like a public recreational pier. I go to the closest phone. A young, California-type surfer dude has seen what happened and has started to call an ambulance. I take the phone feeling that he won't convey the sense of urgency I feel.
The emergency personnel ask where we are. I don't know. I yell, "What lake are we at?" Surfer dude says Barry's or Berries. I repeat this into the phone and then ask "What pier?" Surfer dude says. "I don't know."
I am at a loss and begin to describe the surroundings as seen from the road. I have to look at the road because it's as if I had never been here before. Both sides of the road have touristy billboards. One has Disney caricatures and one has carousel horses.
I go back to my boss feeling confident that the local emergency people know where we are. I walk up to him and reach to touch his right side. I want to comfort him while we wait.
He says "I wish you wouldn't touch me there" just as my right hand makes contact with his side. I had thought it wasn't tender there as the snakebite was lower down. I wake up realizing that my touch hurt him.
Dream edited for easier reading - JT, 2005
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