A Truth Revealed

In the dream I was looking out over a beautiful grassy knoll, from the vantage point of my bed, which I was nestled comfortably in. The sun was shining and the birds were singing and I was at peace. I could see something stirring in the grass across the field and watched it as it became more distinct. It was a two hundred pound, black, hairy Newfoundland dog and she was coming towards me. It was Boon. Boon is a beautiful dog, with a warm disposition and a slightly detached sense of happiness which she radiates outward, expecting only the same in return. She had seen me, I knew, and was coming closer. It was then that I remembered a story Ted had told, all those years ago, and I began to doubt the feeling of serenity I was immersed in. I tried to remember the details of the story. Ted had been out drinking, as had I, and passed out. He had dreamt of Boon, too, and I intuitively understood that the reason for Boon's presence was not a friendly visit.

Her head was all I could see of her as she cut a swathe through the field. Her tongue lolling, her ears up, she moved with more grace than I imagined she was capable of. I felt a feeling of panic rising from my stomach, or maybe it was bile and stale beer, and I tried to move my hands and feet, but as is so common in dreams I was frozen in place. The sky was beginning to cloud over and the wind had picked up, but it only seemed to push Boon towards me, helping her in her nightly ritual. 'What happens next?' I tried to recall Ted's words on waking, but the fog of the dream was becoming too thick. Was this some sort of payback for drinking all that draught myself? Was I being punished for telling the same story over and over again?

Boon was at the foot of the bed now and she sniffed the air as if to identify me by scent and happy with her findings she climbed up on the bed. I was frantic now, I struggled to turn my head to the side, to unlock my eyes from hers, but she held me fast. "Why are you doing this?" I cried, the sound of my own frustration ringing out over the now darkening vista. Boon paused almost as if she'd heard me and suddenly I could read in her liquid gaze the reason for our meeting. She bore me no malice, she just had a job to do. She was a part of the fabric of the cosmos. She could no more stop this than I could. I felt the tension ease just a little but it was a ruse, for then she moved up the bed and I let loose a cry, which opened my mouth wide, and I remembered, in a flash, what Ted had said when he woke from his dream. A part of life, if you want to enjoy an evening out, with your friends, drinking more than you should, will be a visit from Boon. As the dream faded from my mind, I awoke in my bed, the sheets wet with perspiration and uttered the words that every drunk has uttered, upon waking, since the dawn of time.
"Uggh, Boon shit in my mouth."

She's out there, even now, roaming the earth, visiting thousands each night. Tonight it could be you. If you spend the night drinking you can expect a visit and when you wake up you'll have an awful taste in your mouth.

And now you know why.