He woked as the sun woked and rose. He give kisses to him papoose and squaw and depart. He took him bow, so they thought him to be look for deers and other game animals.
But him not.
Him depart on spirit journey, for he had felt low within himself, and knew he needed something extra, like a regular dr pepper instead of his diet dr pepper.
Him get to hill and sit in the mid-morning sun. Him think on himself, and wonder if anything more could fulfill? Could it? Would it? He was at a loss to think, what him want, what him need? Him not know.
He go beyond hill, to the Place Not Seen Often. There him surprised to find plenty, just laid about on the ground, as if waiting for him. He took of this, and partook of this.
The smoked turkey drumstick tasted like ashes, and did not scarcely satisfy. The battery was dead in the handheld Nentindo system, so he could not play games. There was no cellular data service for him perfectly found iPhone. The buffalo skins wilted at the touch, like burned paper. The tin of rat asses were spoiled. He spat them out like lukewarm gruel.
It all tasted like ashes, and that was why a dream was so far away and gossamer-thin; so you could not see its flaws. For you would see its flaws up close, as it were.
Tihwih travel back, three hours through the woods, away from the hill, to see once more him papoose and squaw, who he now missed, though at the hill, they were the furthest thing from his mind.