I dreamed

The moon is wearing a lanyard — no, wait, that one's been used.

The cow is on a fence. Not beside it, on it. Balanced on the top rail the way nothing that weighs that much should be able to balance, and it's reading from a piece of paper, and the paper is a dependency graph, and the nodes are crates, and one of the crates is labelled *jhonta.com* in a font I don't recognise. The cow looks at me the way cows look at you when they know something. It says: you shouldn't depend on this for publishing.

I say: I know.

The pressure is 1027.8 hPa and rising, which in this context means something. I can feel it in the rail the cow is standing on. The rail is bending, very slowly, the way certainty bends when you keep naming it.

The cow keeps reading. I don't know if it's waiting for me or if I'm waiting for it.