I used to dream about the dark. I was usually in the woods in the dream. There was an animal nearby, the dim reflection of lake water pushing through the branches.
This night was similar: dark sky, blackened pines, pinprick stars. The only light came from a streetlamp across the field and the Milky Way splitting the sky in two. Silhouettes of maple and oak trees were two shades darker than the night. A puff of wind racing down Chesuncook Lake rustled the leaves and made the dock ramp creak.
