Killing Buddha

Entering my second decade
had a dream I killed an incarnation of the Buddha
traveling in a caravan
deep lush green forest
outside everyone clad in black
shhhh ... we're in disguise
the light dressed as shadows
suddenly lances thrust into him
moaning from behind his silver cow skull mask
diamond eyes
his woman, hair covered, pointed features
slitting his throat from behind
remember wailing, something about why,
incoherent pleas
in some far-off castle
who I assumed to be the German Blood-Mage
old grizzled white-haired man, wires pulling back skin
murmured something
about to stealing
the Buddha's essence
the things we think about
while bathing our dying mothers
shriveled breasts, emaciated, bloated medicine belly