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The bear saunters out the front door as we stand somewhat confused in my living room as to why a bear was in my house in the first place. Moments later, your dog goes out the front door and my cat darts back in through the nearly closed passage. We try to regain an air of normalcy, though soon the notion occurs we don’t know where your dog was headed and we go check. Once more astonished, we see the dog curled on the porch, comfortably napping with his back against the furry black mass of bear also slumbering on the front porch. Thinking the dog curled up next to the already sleeping bear and not realizing the potential danger once the bear awakens, we both earnestly yet quietly try to wake your dog without disturbing the bear.

Your dog does awaken, but only at the start of the bear’s stirring. My heart beats faster. In continued amazed wonder, I see a tall red fox with long slender legs walking up to the porch, it’s fur wet as if it had been caught in the rain, though the day’s sky was blue. Following was a grown possum, with several young ones, too big to ride upon its tail or back, trailing behind.

A scuffle quickly ensued between them; the bear, the fox and the possums. Chaos on the porch, your dog may have been in the mix, but I am uncertain as the next thing I notice is the railing completely gone on one side of my porch, and then I see the bear carrying it in its mouth out into the middle of my yard, using it to push back the challengers.

Wondering about my porch and how I will manage to get it repaired, I suddenly can see, as the bear is succeeding in its clever use of the porch railing, that it wears upon its head a hat, and further has on a scarf, vest and pants.

As the fox and possums dash off in defeat, the bear strolls back towards the side of the house. Though unsure of the response, my heart is still racing and you are dumbfounded as I take a couple steps onto my porch towards the direction of the bear, and say, “I would really appreciate my porch being repaired.”

The bear turns its head towards me and then stands up to full height and says, “Yes, I would agree I should take care of that. I would appreciate it though, if you leave the burrow dug under the porch.”

I have dreams but maybe 2-3 times a year, at least of which I have any recall. That is what I woke to this morning. I don’t know who “you” are. I never see you. I only know you are there as ‘we’ see certain things and that the dog, something like a dark brown Setter, was yours and not mine.