In a flash, I was unexpectedly dead, and the barking dog I had been observing froze momentarily as the world around me shivered as if reflected in the silvery turbulence of some celestial fountain. And then, to my surprise, everything but the dog dimmed until all I could see were black ripples, swarming in patterns which I recognized as some bizarre form of language.

The dog was a fire formed of hues unimaginable; a living painting ripped in night’s dominion by a hand divine. It began retracing its steps, in reverse, as the marbled darkness coughed up slow explosions, which must have been the inverted aural effulgences of its barking. These the animal seemed to helplessly inhale and swallow; silencing each one in turn.

I can only fail to adequately express the utterly alien character of this spectacle; the incoherent motifs of florid color pulsing within his fur, the puppetesque quality of the scene as the tail led the contradictions of his previously ordinary trajectory, the insane ardency imposed upon his hapless face as he emphatically retrieved each of his previous outbursts.