Tales of the Behemoth

In recent daydreams, I bemused trekking the wild African plain - herds of hippoes and elephants petrifying prey with their might. Envisioning the behemoth I recall a story about behemoth’s strong powerful tail. So my reverie is confused. An elephant’s tail I see as a bottle brush, skinny, floppy. I had heard, read, or seen somewhere “the behemoth’s tail sways like a cedar” which immediately brought to mind the elephant’s trunk. This trance has the power to amuse I ponder the thought of a writer who mistook the front end for the rear end of an elephant and in typical dream fashion had created a new fantasy - the legendary behemoth. At this point my head went on cruise drifting to comic books of old, where behemoth is a monster set in the tales of Atlantis. I recall a trip with puppets electric eels, whirlwinds, quicksand from the brilliant minds at Marvel. For writers impelled by a muse to pen our imaginations, dreams make perfect sense while dreaming. Sweats, rapid heart beats are the proof when we awake in frantic haste to get it all down on paper before our mind reverts to truth.