The Lion and the Bird

I stand at the top of a mountain. Before me is a water flume which leads all the way down to a valley far below. In the froth of the water, I see a Lion slugging at the mouth of the tube, its movement sluggish as if it has clawed its way up from the very bottom. Then, no sooner had I made it out in the clumps of mist and shimmer of the sun, it is gone. I flip through this new memory a single frame at a time, trying to figure out what had happened. In one I see a distinct outline of what seems to be a long-extinct terror-bird, its talons outstretched towards the neck of the beast.