I dreamed the earth was a sea turtle. I did. Its back was crawling with tiny humans frantically hacking at its shell with ice picks, and the earth turtle just floated there, placid, docile. It knew but felt no pain. It was looking into my eyes. I have been there, you know, inches from a green sea turtle, suspended in time and place as it held my gaze, trying to know what I was. The earth turtle of my dream stared at me just like that, eyes full of ancient wisdom and profound sadness. They know not what they do, they seemed to say.