I Dreamed

I dreamed I was on an archeological dig in Africa. When we looked at the map we realized it was a tiny highway island. I was squeezing pebbles of dirt and they were turning dark blue in my hands. So this is how they make oil paint pigments, I thought.
A man was telling a story: My wife came home leaving the Toyota radio blaring rock music when she went inside the house. My son was in the yard walking towards the car and the hawk swooped down and attacked him. He was only six at the time.
Does he still have two eyes, two ears? I asked. Yes, he's just traumatized, the man said.