With Harley in my lap, I kythed with him to Journey.
The scene changed to us walking down a city alley at night. The ground was asphalt, wet from a recent rain. The only light was colorful neon reflections from beyond the alley in puddles and shiny surfaces. As we continued on, a fog rolled in, and soon the mist enveloped us as well.
As we stepped beyond the fog, I saw that the landscape had dramatically changed. We were now walking in the meadowlands of Wales, with sheep wandering about. Harley jumped after the sheep, and began to weave his enigmatic way through their legs. And they responded as if this was an everyday occurence. I heard the soft barking of a dog, and looked out upon the lands. There was a black and white border collie herding the sheep towards the outbuilding (it was way too small to be called a barn). Next to that was a small thatched-roof cottage.
It began raining, and Harley raced for the cottage cat door, while I encouraged the sheep into their shelter, with the help of 'Max' (that's what the dog said his name was). When I came into the cottage, I shook out my coat and hung it on a peg. Harley was already napping in the chair closest to the small fire in the living room. In actuality, it was one room with a loft for sleeping, is all - with a kitchen area off to the right. I don't know how the fire came to be, but I sat down with Harley and warmed myself up, after I hung a cast-iron tea pot on to boil.