She lies in bed, her eyes are still closed. Fresh in her mind stands her dream of a Lion. He had stepped from an eternal campfire, in front of which, she had been meditating, legs enfolded, clad in a, stealthy bodytight, futuristic black leotard, which seemed to amplify her every movement, thought, impulse, emotion. She thought this might have been awkward, emotionally/physically disastrous. She remembered springing from the Lotus position, back flipping thrice, and landing on her feet, like a cat, as her back claws dug into the gymnasium wrestling mat. They flexed as if ready to fight the intruding animal. The vision was biblical, while the bible in her mind was vague and contained many gaps, she figured, or remembered from that flood of societal biblical reinforcement, that the Lion represented God, but her distant conscious inserted the personal spin of the general Man representation of the lion. The God/Man/Lion walked from the fire, sat before her, she flipped three backward and flexed her claws for a fight, but the Lion’s dull, pretty, animal, frozen-fiery eyes just casually looked her over, as if saying, I just happened out of the fiery forest finding an easy meal, in an all-amplifying body tight black leotard, yet I’m not very hungry, oh well... He then said something so very, very, very important, but this being the murky memberances of a dream, she typically couldn’t remember what. He looked around casually, again took short notice of X, no threat, and bent to lick his butt. She just stood there dumfounded, waiting for a Godly wisdom, ready for a fight, her claws flexing, her suit heightening, heightening, until her suit inspired, amplified adrenalin that had been tingling in her flexing fingers, began, spitting a ribbon of fire far off onto a, Yellow-Ocre, ugly, VanGogh, arid desert mountain.

Mount Sinai, it seemed to say... and VanGogh, imported from the oblivion of preexistence, looked up from his painting to smile and wave.

Was she, shooting fire off into Mount Sinai, Moses, which she might have been proud of, but slightly resented, or did the God/Lion god come to inspire the fire, in a bolt of energy/information, channeling it through her special self and ever more profound suit, that inscribes the tablets, for which the commandments were written, and Moses standing in the mountain, as kind of negative, unwillingly the prophet and her comrade/confident, being as fed up and dumbfounded and all, as she, being the unwilling printmaster, conveying these petty LAWS, the absolutes for which she really didn’t believe, or even express all that much enthusiasm, while all those people in the dessert below, stole, drank, fornicated and all that other nasty stuff.

What the fuck was this lion thinking anyway? He, by the way was now licking between the digits of his right paw and she realized that he the Man/Lion/God, didn’t consciously have any idea what he was doing, but was just some lion traipsing around, walking from his Savanna, through a cave of fire, landing in front of this woman, in an all amplifying body leotard, and basically behaving as came naturally, eating, fucking his harem of lionesses, killing the children of his enemies, and to her good fortune, he didn’t happen to be naturally hungry at the time. It was his Id, or unconscious, or dreaming, that was really doing the thinking, or perhaps when he walked in circles three times, thrice, and went to sleep curled up in a cute furry ball, in his dreams contained another world, where linear time, categories, man, woman, didn’t exist, and a side effect of this was, reality, looking ahead, and behind, up and down, loosing your wallet, waiting for her TV show to come on.

She noticed the blue light lines of day, creeping over the desert horizon, this wasn’t VanGogh any more, feeling Moses tired footfalls, and his profound hate for God, echoing down the mountain. She sat back down next to the lion, petting and burying her hand deep in his lush and soft fur, for she couldn’t resist really and wanted to say to the lion, who would only perhaps look at her quizzically, or decide to eat her, that His laws were just a levy, and the water would flow up, over, through the cracks and around. Men would be born, schooled to, worship, interpret and circumvent, these laws. Just honorable people would be burnt alive for adhering to and breaking them, and thoughtful people would become thoughtless and slothful even more so, as they felt that the domino theory, future, being well written, and they no longer lived in the hopeful bright eyed present, but were born out of the past, live on a pretrodden path, feeling the book of their lives already written eighty times for every breath they did take, dejavous--didn’t we already do this, so why not just surrender, to fate, to the force of the current, trod despondently, waiting for something interesting that might happen, and let his vision unfold unhindered until the apocalypse begins. That would at least be fun no matter which line he was placed. Anyway, he would probably be spared, for he was certainly better than the rest of the damned, and let the rest of the poor Jews go on off to the poison showers and furnaces.?! She basically hated him as much as the tired despondent Moses did.

She opened her eyes, finally, smiled at her little cat curled in a ball next to her, ruffled her fur, she began to purr, they both stretched, got out of bed, used the bathroom and litter box and went off to eat breakfast, forgetting most of what they dreamt.