treatment for pe



I am alone in a canoe, skimming effortlessly across a tranquil lake shrouded by a cloud of fog that closes in on me like a warm blanket of white breath. It is deathly quiet, the silence occasionally punctuated by the echoing cry of a loon somewhere out on the lake. My fly is trailing about two hundred feet behind the canoe. I am fishing a Magog Smelt tandem streamer tied by a friend who understands a thing or two about ounaniche.  The surface of the lake is completely flat, with white wisps of fog mist rising off its polished metal surface like cumulous clouds travelling across the sky. There is silence all around. All of a sudden my line straightens and I gently raise the rod tip and set the hook. For an instant there is nothing, the line goes slack, but then a series of wild splashes echo through the thick fog as the fish jumps for his freedom. Then there is weight as my line begins to peel off the fly reel at an astonishing rate until far into the backing. It is a big fish and we settle into each other for a long and protracted battle…

This is my favorite recurring dream.


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