STICKLE PIG

I dreamed of hedgehogs again last night. It was a comforting dream that included crisp green apples. No, there is no deep significance to any this, despite it happening several times over the years. At least a hundred hedgehog dreams.
I do not think myself a hedgehog when it happens. Nor do I imagine myself defensively rolled into a tight ball with sharp spines sticking out.
It’s more about the colours in the illustrations of a children’s book I read when small.
Lovely pictures, with warmth and much character.
Hedgehogs, and apples.
Green.

There were two of them. One protected the other, and together they fed on fruit.

The book was filled with sunlight.


I like the idea of crisp green apples more than the reality. Same goes for sunlight.
Shafts of brightness shining in are nicer than a harsh direct glare.
And sometimes a hedgehog is just a hedgehog.


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