There is a heron standing in the water. In the shallows. Near the bank. It is you. No. It is me. The heron stands on one foot. On your foot. No. Mine.
There is an alligator swimming so slowly, silently, barely scraping the lake’s floor with it’s pale belly. It is you. No. It is me. I am the alligator, watching your foot, my foot, the heron’s foot.
The water is green. The water is difficult to see through. Here comes the alligator. There stands the heron. Fear builds.
And I’m awake. The heron (you) flew away. The alligator stayed underneath.