Wooly Monsters

My dreams are wooly mammoths monstrous beings with tusks as long as a man's arms, eyes as big as saucers and hairy as all get out. My dreams are prehistoric, some small genetic chain in a stem cell linking me to where we were once when the wooly beast stuck his head into our shelter, frightening the children, fretting the women. The Shaman drew his likeness on the wall of the cave so we could attack him with sticks. I hope the hunters will kill him soon, or subdue him shortly.