In the dream, Uncle Jack was there in that drainage ditch and I was there with him. Above us the ice was thick–not so much as a crack in its surface–so that I couldn’t figure how exactly it was we’d come to be there in the water beneath it. As for the water itself, it was damn near dark as night. Only reason I could make out Uncle Jack at all was he was naked and so pale as to be glowing almost and rippling around like there was a current maybe trying to suck him through the culvert what runs under Cold River Road. He was rippling around like he didn’t hardly have a body at all except for what fleshy white strands I could discern and yet I knew it was him somehow.
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