One character tries to describe a dream to another.
At the base of a fence in the Australian countryside sits one bunny and another bunny.
“I don’t like what I saw.”
“Another dream?”
“Not a dream, Buck.”
“Another allegory for your life, like the rest of them?”
“You’re mocking me.”
“Fine, what did you see?”
“Cut, green grass, but it bruised. It bled. It shriveled away wherever we walked.”
“Shriveled?”
“Perhaps the eagle flying away with a scroll in its talons had something to do with it?”
“Crazy. That’s what you are, crazy. I can’t think of any way those are connected.”
“Call me what you want, but it means something.”
“Just figure it out so I can get on with my munching.”
“Well, do you know how long our family’s been here?”
“Ages. We’ve always been here.”
“What if we haven’t? Maybe that’s what the dream’s saying. Maybe we’re causing this grass to bleed. Maybe the eagle flying away is like the history of this land disappearing under our feet.”
“I still think you’re crazy, but you didn’t tell me how it ended.”
“Bunnies. Lots of them, growing out where the grass died. A whole field of them, just more and more bunnies.”
“And what does that mean?”
“I think it means we’re killing the land.”
“Look at this, all the grass, nobody to hunt us down. Doesn’t look dead to me. Now shut up and eat.”
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