the Shepherd

First I saw a concrete jungle. It was a city block, like so many, but then I recognized this one.  It is the street just outside the Yokohama train station, a daft feature having a Starbucks Coffee across the street from a Starbucks Coffee.  However, the streets were not busy with people like they should be, but busy with wolves, who snarled and crept between alleys and open doors.  Black, grey and brown menacing features, yellow eyes looked up at me as sniffing noses and bushy tails swept the ground.  The wind picked up and blew garbage under abandoned taxicabs and empty crosswalks.  No electricity lit the traffic signals, no plumbing fueled the fountain, no society to interact with.  I felt more fearful of being mentally gutted from loneliness, turned inside out and spilled onto quiet concrete, than that from being hunted by the more ambitious looking wolves.  They seemed to be looking for something very intently, yet unorganized and dumb.  Suddenly, I see a man.  An elderly man, his clothes are filthy looking and seem to have become part of the corner he sat in, he has been there a very long time.  I carefully move to him, to not attract attention, and as I got close I felt safer.  I said hello very happily, and we shook hands.  He smelled like cigarettes and body odor, and looked twice as gross.  I asked him what happened here, where is everyone and about the wolves.  He looks up to me very lazily and begins his answer with awkward hand gestures first, then a lazier voice arrives.  "See, the wolves are here because the Shepherd has left us all."  It was not scary as I thought about it, and I didn't feel anything except acceptance as I woke.