Again I was in a forest and everything stood solely in black and white. Maybe I should stop watching those old films; they slow down my brain and I still haven't decided whether that is a good or bad thing. The way also I moved through that forest... I felt like a passenger, an antagonist, not nearly the central character of my dream. Someone else directed the images in a soft rhythm. Completely in harmony, a deer came forward. While he pointed his antlers at the heavens, I aimed my hunting gear at his chest. By shooting him, colour dripped into my dream for the first time. The fiery red blood ran down on black and white ferns and finally I felt the strength of my own hands.