Had a long drawn out dream last night, revolved around trying to hang out with a group of friends I don’t have in real life. Not interesting, but there was this amusing side bit. I did some mild violence to a chicken, you know, just playing with it. I forget how, like it grabbed my finger by the beak and I shook it or something. Anyway, a huge amount of its feathers instantly fell off.
I didn’t feel too guilty because I know they can grow back and I knew the injury was more a matter of the beast’s surprising fragility than my own malevolence. There was fleeting moment of shock replaced by amusement.
Then I was walking through the halls of the same building – I forget where or why – but I saw a conventionally attractive young lady talking on her cellphone with a friend. She was talking about how her feathers are more sturdy now, but they used to “shed like a bonfire” when she was younger. I knew then that she was a chicken. Not like the lady in the gross Kids in the Hall skit, but just a pretty girl who is somehow also a chicken.
She noticed feathers twirling around the corners of the hall and touched her hair. I knew she was nervous that they came from her – that she was indeed still shedding like a bonfire. But I tried to set her mind at ease, by telling her that it came from the other chicken. That’s all.