Comment A Dream: Although I do not completely remember the dream, I do remember the place where when we were still

young upon the earth we used to walk under the mo on beside a river that was our winter home; we would run beneath the white aspen s in the white snow, chasing each other, and the wind would whisper through the leaves stories to us of yesterday and tomorrow, and of a place where one split i nto two that is equally our beginning and our return. In time, you became my wif e, and together, as we lived through the seasons our minds and hearts knew no bo undary. As we grew older, new people came unto the land, the wise said they came from across the great river; a different people then we had ever known with a s trange power and hunger that told of emptiness and bitter hearts, and they took from us our innocence, and they took our dances and our feathers, and they took the grass, and the river, and the hills, and they took the skies and the stars a nd the moon and they named them words we could not understand and they gave us i nstead of the cool wind and the sun a god which was neither these things nor any other that we knew, and they took from us our mothers and fathers and our child ren and the plains became red with the blood of every dying song. I myself died in the fighting of this dream and my spirit wandered lonely from place to place, but it never did find you again, nor did it find the place where my elders stok ed the fire of the ancient council, but instead walked into trees and rabbits, h awks and fishes, crickets and bees, and other men until I find myself here, in a nother story, resembling the very people of whom I speak. Such is the paradox of eternity.