I'm eight years old, we're driving through the mountains, heading for Horse Thief Lake, and I'm enjoying looking out the window at birds and trees and listening to Grandpa sing songs in Spanish. At the same time, I'm wishing that Grandpa will change his mind, that he won't want to go to Horse Thief, because I know that when we get there all we'll do is cast two lines (three if the ranger isn't working) and sit around all day in the sun waiting for fish. Oh yeah, and I know I'll be fetching beer.

We get there, set up and everything. It's got to be 90 degrees and I'm thinking, I hate fishing. And Grandpa's watching me, looking kind of irritated; maybe because I'm fidgeting and making a lot of noise. But I don't care. I hate fishing and my body won't let me pretend I like it anymore. It's too hot. Too sticky.

Grandpa clears his throat and I keep fidgeting.

Then, all of a sudden, Grandpa's yelling.

"Stop moving around so much, dang it. You're scaring the fish!"

Grandpa's never yelled at me, so I just stay still and stare at him. Then I start to cry and Grandpa looks sad and tells me to come sit on his lap. I shake my head no and keep crying. Then Grandpa goes crazy again.

"Well, if you're not gonna come over here, quit that dang crying," he says. "You're scaring the dang fish!"

Then I go crazy.

I've never talked back to Grandpa but I do today.

I stand up and yell.

"You're mean! I didn't do nothin' to you! I hate you! And I hate fishing! I hate it!"

Then I turn from Grandpa and run into the woods.

In the woods, I think about some things I want to do to Grandpa.

I think I'm gonna grow up and not do nothing too mean to him, but when he has to live with me because he's too old to take care of himself, I'm gonna make sure he knows who's in charge. When he asks me for a beer, I'm gonna tell him, "No way - not good for you." And when he complains, I'm gonna say, "No - it's for your own good."

Even though I know what I want to do is mean, I know it's not as mean as Grandpa, because fishing ain't good for you, it's just fishing.

I'm thinking all these things then I notice the woods around me -- the trees, the pine needles covering the ground, the pine smell, the little clouds flying by, sun rays cutting through the forest, a meadow lark singing -- and all of a sudden I don't know where I'm at.

I mean, I know I'm in the woods by Horse Thief and that Grandpa isn't too far away, but I don't really know where I'm at. Everything I noticed around me, the earth, the forest, the song and everything, seems different, like something I've never known, not real.

I'm so confused that I just plop to the ground and sit cross-legged where I was standing.

Now what's going on, I'm thinking. Am I dreaming? Why do the trees look so strange, so different than anything I've ever seen? Why does the meadow lark's song sound different? It's like I never heard it.

Then I stare at my hand and start laughing.

I've never seen anything so ridiculous looking. And I wonder if I'm a dream.

The wind blows and I think, now that sounds odd.

And all of a sudden I hear it talking, whispering.

I've never heard the language that it's speaking, but I know what it's saying.

It tells me, real soft like, that I'm a dream, that Grandpa's a dream, that the trees are a dream, that Horse Thief and the pine needles on the ground and their pretty smell are dreams.

I become afraid and sad because I know the wind isn't lying, that the wind can't lie, and that maybe someday, well no, not maybe, I KNOW that someday, I'm gonna wake up and so will Grandpa and the dream will be over. I don't want to think about it so I get up and run, run as fast as I can, to Grandpa.

He sees me coming and he must think I'm running from a bear or something because he picks up some rocks with one hand, a stick with the other. But he doesn't see a bear and opens his mouth like he's gonna say, "what?"

Before he says a word, I jump to him and tell him I love fishing and that I'll always love fishing and that no matter what, I'll always let him drink beer.

He hugs me and doesn't say a word.

Then he kisses me on the forehead and says let's call it a day for fishing. Let's go exploring. Let's go look at that cave you like to sit in. We haven't been there for a while. And that's where we go, what we do.