A few months ago, I had a dream:
I was walking through the woods with two friends when I noticed a crow in the trees. It was sitting low down on the branches, hopping after us tree-by-tree. I mentioned it to my friends and they said not to bother about it. The longer the crow chased after us, though, the more uncomfortable I felt - somehow it seemed that this wasn’t an ordinary bird.
When I tried to point the crow out again, my friends claimed they couldn’t see it. I went to point at it and realised the crow was gone. As I turned back to my friends, clawed hands grabbed my shoulders and shoved me back. For a few moments I saw this face: black eyes, oily dark hair, an aquiline nose almost like a beak - and then he was gone. My friends stared at me blankly: ‘What are you screaming about?’
Before we moved on, I saw the crow sitting back in the trees. He was watching me.
Watercolours and ink