BOYS FROGS

This was a summery dream, in which I was walking down a road and met three amusing fair-haired Aryan boys who played and jumped around me. They seemed to be three brothers, as they looked like each other, but they also looked like me. One of them was hanging on my legs, another one was jumping and laughing, and the third fell and started mutating into a tadpole. While he mutated, I noticed that the other boys had webbed fingers and frogs’ feet. The mutating boy fell to the ground. His body turned into an elongated, wet, reptiloid body, and you could tell by his face that he was feeling ill. He regurgitated water and slid down that water into a ditch, where he joyfully splashed around.

As I was drawing this dream, I was listening to the musical Jesus Christ Superstar and at some point I heard the words I needed to hear: “you are not a man, you are a frog!”