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Do people occasionally wonder if cattle have the ability to dream? If so, what would the fragile, shifting world of sleep look like in the eyes of a highland bull? Because, ah, Cow knew what it was to dream. Not the thought dream of greener grass on the other side of the fence where the many wolves sometimes came to watch him eat the less green substance on his respective side of the fence, but the dream that was a blooming world behind tired, shut cow eyes hidden behind heavy amounts of stringy brown cow fur. Now, tonight, Cow would enter a dream dreamt times and times again, but seeing as he was a simple minded creature, he stepped into this new, impossible world with round beetle black eyes of unaltered wonder.
The highland bull had always been fascinated by the vivid green lakes; of the subtle breaths of breeze rippling through its mimicking waves of a sea he never had and never would see. It was all right, for Cow did not harbour dreams of seeing distant shores and strange lands. He was not an advanced creature, and therefore he, like every other moron, had the ability to find complete contentment in what he had. The happiest creature in the world was the one that did not know better, and one of those blissfully retarded creatures was our very own cow. His day surrounded by wolf smell and strange staring and sometimes interacting were not bad. They brought him food, and as long as there was enough green and gold and tasty stuff, there was no reason for the bull to ponder about anything in particular.
Grass was grass, and grass was happiness. There were also lots of pretty cows present sometimes, and Cow had been delighted to discover that there had been no mean “moos” calling him Cow. Not that it would have mattered, for the bull had forgotten the circumstances that had led to his strange name a long time ago—to be more exact, approximately a week after he had walked away from the land he had called cow and bull land until that too had been forgotten at the same time as his demeaning nick name. He was not a creature that was able to hold grudges. In fact, it was splendid to walk with the cows, because they all were “Cow”. One simple moo would bring every beast’s attention. But enough of this, for Cow’s brain did not reel back to such memories. His thoughts were fixated at this current world unveiled before his stupid eyes.
There was a place called Candy Mountain, but that place was not here. This place did not have a name, for the highland creature’s brain was not bright enough for such complicated procedures as granting things names. Things were what they were. There was a mountain, and there was a rich, impossible rich field of green. Cows could not dance, but restricting rules of the physical world could not restrain him here, and fell invalid as the thrilled form of a heavily furred beast of deep browns tip toed down knee deep into endless waves of green, green, so much green it made his head spin. It could have been easy for him to settle here, on the precise spot he eventually stopped by. Fat muzzle moved down to rip a rich mouth full of juicy, delicious, marvellous, SCRUMPTIOUS green grass. Black bead eyes rolled around in his head as he grunted in his delight, waving his muzzle high into the air to reveal his trophy to the empty world of grass where he was alone.
His tongue was basking in emerald glory inside his mouth, and treasures of the nostrils were far from his thrilled mind. Nothing could ever surpass healthy, green grass. Nothing ever could. Never. Not ever. Except—oooh! The large animal discovered small blooming buds of yellow amongst green. Salad was wonderful with the right mixture. A dandelion was not forever, because Cow was here to munch it up with the root and everything. His thin tail waved behind his immerse figure, but there were no annoying, happy times killing flies in Cow dream land. "Mmphfrooooo!" The male snorted as his muzzle dove into a cluster of yellow, coating his snout with the same brightness. Lovely spice with lovely grass—the bull was amazed. However, the grass always remained greener on the other side, and this was a thought that had been drilled into his head with such force that it could never leave there. Onwards he pounced on quickened bull’s feet, brushing through the endless oceans, innards elevated with the simple happiness he so easily possessed.
In real life, Cow never had a reason to gaze up towards the sky, but this was not reality, and so when he did, he saw patches of green in the sky, surrounded by blue and cotton candy skies. It was self-explanatory that the grass in the sky was the most delicious of all. And up, up he would go! A raincloud of clovers passed his ecstatic form, and the stupid animal tumbled around in free air, invisible rocket boots sending him into blue and green and away from his seas of green and gold. The lack of gravity was not questioned, for things were as they should be. Imaginary wings brought him higher still, turning him around in the sugar coated sky and sending him into the grass in the sky. Strong jaw muscles were busy with munching the loveliest of grasses, clovers and pretty, edible dandelions. A wolf man appeared somewhere amongst the floating grass, and he knew this man. Feathers were on birds, for he had seen several of those things this week. They walked in the air and it was very odd, for he could not. He had tried. He was almost certain that he could not. A wolf was not a bird, this, the grand animal was fairly certain of, but he knew that the wolf’s head was partly a bird because it had a lot of feather wings and stuff like that.
This carnivore was a friendly element in Cow’s world, and he licked the smiling face with a joyous tongue. Unfortunately, the dog thing man tasted like grass. On and on the large hooved creature soared, because there was always greener grass to find someone else. Heaven and earth and everything were green, and Cow was the happiest thing on earth. "Mooo!"The colour would remain behind heavy lidded eyes for all eternity, at least until he woke up to discover that the green was a lie, for here was only cold white and the lack of the loveliest colour of them all. Dreams would continue most nights though, and every day when the night crept into his hide, another day was born inside his head; a dancing cow in fields of green.
Oh, if only Cow could speak. Unfortunately, all he could do was to moo. But as one of the world's most stupid creatures, this was enough for him.