("Coyote Woman Dreaming", by Susan Seddon Boulet)
It started with an offering. A deer heart, left for a mischievous being who I needed to appease. Coyote, the Trickster, who's been messing with me. Hard. I walked out across the prairie to where it ends at the edge of a bluff, overlooking the river. There, at the roots of an old burr oak, I unwrapped from the heart a length of hand-spun sheep's wool I had tied with knots and whispered prayers over, as I'd wound it 'round earlier, and, feeling the eyes of the resident coyotes on me, offered it. Later, at night, I took that bloody length of knotted yarn...did some magic...and went to bed.
Then dreamed I was being consumed by coyotes.
I saw the heart lying where I'd left it. But, then I was lying there. I heard the pack, I saw them, and then they were sniffing the heart. They were sniffing me. Tentatively tasting. And then they started to consume the heart. Consume me! Literally, tearing us both apart and devouring us! I experienced a sensation I have never felt before, and can only describe by saying, that, if intense physical feeling is a triangle, and pleasure and pain are the bottom corners, this sensation rose way, way up, but perfectly between them, to form the pinnacle of the triangle! It was neither pain nor pleasure, and both, and more!
In case this sounds like it wasn't a good dream, let me assure you, it was. Though, you can imagine why I feel a little hungover by it all. But, to be clear, I wasn't being torn apart to be less...I was being torn apart to be more. I have multiplied in the bellies of wild beasts. I am being carried by a pack of coyotes. I don't know, yet, what this means for my man the Trickster. But, I do know that when I hiked back to the burr oak, this morning, the heart was gone.