In my dream I met a crow with a horse's head. It flew down to greet me and spouted nonsense in my ear. Something about it seemed wrong, like an angel coming down to Earth to remind us all of the futility of our understanding. The subtle way the black feathers of the crow blended into the hair of the horse was as two ocean currents mixing, combining years of primordial but separate existences. The omen formed words out of the sludge of language and said: “thou knoweth my being, for I sleep in all of you, in places you cannot see and hide from the world.” The weight of its head kept it from flying away gracefully, so it limped its way back up to heaven and left me alone once again.