Dreams to comfort?

The heron stood, waiting.
My camera clicked softly but I still worried that the sound might disturb his hunt, might draw attention to me.

Minutes passed slowly, and with every click I held my breath.
The heron ignored me and I took a series of stills.

Finished, my partner and I moved away from the shallow pond and further down the trail through the woods.

Then I could hear it in the background, against the silence of the trees.
Yapping. Barking.

There they were, the two of them. Emerging between the thin trunks.
Wolves. Threatening. Circling.

Standing up full I growled and lunged at them.
I knew this trick.
Stand up and reverse the threat.
Gnash teeth and bare fangs.
That stopped them for a moment.
My partner stood by me, unsure what was required.

Looking around I found a long log I might use against them. Picking it up I hefted it in my hands.
It was light and rotted through.
But it would have to do.

Turning and swinging, I hit the the closest one square in the head, breaking the rotted stick but sending him scurrying away.
The second didn't seem daunted.
I had to find another weapon.

An antler. It was blood damp from the felt sloughed off.

I swung at the last wolf. And swung again.
This didn't make sense.
I should be striking it every time. The distance between us was less than a foot.
Then I figured it out.
This was a ghost!

This wolf was a ghost.
It had incited the other true wolf into trying to attack us. That's why all my blows fell false. That's why I couldn't understand why a wolf was attacking me.
Wolves don't attack their own kind.

Realizing this, I just turned and walked away.
It faded into the back ground, no longer believed in.

My dreams just get curiouser and curiouser.