The dream started off, I believe, with my looking at a picture of the most other worldly landscape, although it was supposed to have been taken in Africa somewhere. It was in color and the ocean was on the left sort of stretched out diagonally across the picture and it was covered by very thin, very low-lying clouds, sort of a mist, so up to about 10 feet or so on this ocean side the clouds were there so that you could just see glimpses of dark blue water between them. Now there was a collection of fantastic animals, all sorts of strange animals, standing along the shore and there was a little child about 5 years old or so, a little white child and naked, I believe, lying down on the sand on his back and feeding a little bird or an animal or something pieces of bread. This picture was supposedly taken in this very wild area of Africa somewhere. Then instead of this being a photograph, this seemed to be a movie which showed this tribe, this wild African tribe, trying to shoot this wild pig, and they had a great big bow which they had put up in a tree to hold it firm while they drew it and tiny little arrows, then when they shot it, it would go wild just as often as not, instead of hitting the animal. At this point I got into this somehow, I and somebody else, and we were going to show these people how to shoot their bow so they could have more meat and not have such a hard time. So we got a bow and were shooting at these pigs. There were lots of wild pigs around, and then this one pig tried to run off thru the brush and there was a marsh right there, and also the marsh ran right into a river bank or a lake bank, so it just went out into deep water. And so the pig got trapped into some sort of rope noose so it couldn't get away. This was just as good because we weren't really such good shots with the bow and arrow anyway, I and whoever this other person was. So we shot at it and finally I hit it and it rolled over on its back, and so I hit him several times in the belly, but none of my arrows, no matter how hard I pulled them, the bow string would not go in very far and it really didn't look very wounded even though these arrows were in it because there wasn't any blood. But finally, I guess, the natives came over and got it. In the rest of this dream I was sort of a spinsterish person, a little old lady, a school teacher type in about my late 40's or so, early 50's maybe, and I was addressing this whole group of ladies sitting around, celebrating and having their evening meal with all these fantastic foods, really a fantastic array of foods, all of them very happy children of nature type, and I spent in this dream, it must have been an hour or so, in this impassioned speech in which I told them that many of them had been up to this white man's land and they had seen the wondrous sights there and they had found the dazzling things which were there, and under the influence of fire, water and various other things they had been tempted to remain in the white man's land among all these marvels. But they knew they were far happier here in nature where they belonged and with some of the white man's goods, but certainly not with the white man's way of life because that was only trouble and sorrow for them. I told them then that the white man was happy with his way of life and he wouldn't trade all his paraphernalia and his way of rushing life for the calm way that these natives lived among the beauties of nature. Then I told them I was one of these unhappy people that didn't fit in either place, that I didn't like the white man's ways and yet I couldn't live in their simple and peaceful existence. And the only reason I was there was become someone whom I had dearly loved, the only one I had ever dearly loved in the white man's land, had betrayed me or something. So I had come to seek peace and solace with them and to rest for a while. Of course, this injected sort of a bit of gloom into their happy festivities so that when I quit speaking there was a silence for a while and everybody just sat and didn't know what to say to that outburst. And I was not this spinster lady any more, but someone else, the most understanding native of the tribe or something, so that when this babble of voices started back up in the babble two women's voices could be distinguished above all others and completely uncaring about the speech that went before. One was talking about her washing machine and some trouble that she had had with it and the other was telling about how in her instruction book it said to be sure it was sitting level and then water wouldn't stand in it. So I and the lady sort of looked at each other and exchanged a knowing laugh, realizing that this way of life was not our way of life but there was nothing we could do to change it or something.