
"Dream for us, Grodd!" said the Pointy-Stick People. "Give us a mighty dream, for tomorrow we hunt!"
"Certainly", said Grodd. "Which animal shall I dream?"
"Not of cave lions," said the People. "You are nothing but trouble after you have had the Cave-Lion Dream. Seek the pastures of the horses and the aurochsen, for it is them whom we shall hunt."
Grodd took his fox-skin pouches of ground ochre and of charcoal. He climbed the mountain-side to the edge of the pine forest to gather the red-caps, the sons of thunder, then
[several lines erased; possibly describing the preparation of the mushroom]
and in the deepest womb of the cavern he went traveling to the dream pastures.

Surely Shiplap the Father of Shamans had heard Grodd's prayer, for his dream was good, with a
quarter-moon of animals, mares and auroch-cows and bulls, white shining silver studs with their nose in flames, more than Grodd had ever dreamed before. He opened his pouches of pigment, and with the brush of
morgellon-fibre that had been his teacher's before him, by the flickering gerbil-oil flame of a wick alight in a spondylus shell, Grodd painted what he had seen.

But what are all these circles? Grodd certainly had not seen them in the dream, but they showed up everywhere in the painting. He
was puzzled. The odd thing was that
exactly the same thing had happened last time.
"I shall call them 'orbs'," Grodd said.