I dreamed about a black widow spider. I was tending to my heirloom tomato plants. Using a black-light LED flashlight, I'd go out before sunrise and search for the horn-worms that had been feasting on my precious beautiful Golden Cherokee fruit bearing plants. The horn-worms glow neon green in the black-light. As I picked one off then another, I found a much larger one and as I broke the branch off that it was hiding under, I noticed something else and sensed it was sinister.
I dropped the branch and with the black-light I could not determine what the other element was lurking near the big shining worm, but could see it was there. I got another light and there in all it's own black shininess with it's identifying bright red hour glass was the black widow. It scampered from safety and made it away into the darkness over the edge of the deck. A shiver ran up to the back of my neck and I awoke.
I'd known the war was coming. Lines had been drawn. Struggle and turmoil embroiled both sides in a tug of war that would not end soon. At some point, I knew, one side would irreconcilably cross a line and the intensity of the scrimmages would turn to real battles. The damage would be higher. To endure was becoming exhausting. The physical and psychological demands were taking their toll on the will to fight.
The bugs had come out of hiding, no longer able to be suppressed and it clearly indicated the end was near.
Time to fall back, reassess and take inventory.
Patch up the wounded, strengthen what remains and prepare for the final toe to
toe exchange of blows in the center of the ring. I’m hurting, I’m wounded but I’m
pressing on, hoping for a second wind amidst the onslaught of this vile opponent
who seeks to destroy the last thing I’ve known all my life.
Damn you Dementia, damn you and your ilk.
