Dead rattlesnake in a department Store

"I was standing in the driveway of my childhood home, holding a yellow garden hose that I needed to fix for some reason. But when I looked down at my hands, it wasn't a hose at all—it was a long, thick rattlesnake. It was completely stiff and dull grey, like dried mud, with its eyes filmed over like pale glass. I knew it was dead, so I wasn't scared of it biting me or anything, but I had this strange, detached compulsion that I had to put it back where it belonged. Suddenly I was walking through a brightly lit department store carrying the dead snake casually over my shoulder like a towel. Shoppers were walking past me carrying laundry baskets, but nobody paid any attention to me. I laid the snake down flat on a glass display case next to a row of men's watches, making sure its tail was perfectly straight. I just stared at it for a second, feeling this complete, flat emptiness in my chest, and then I turned around and walked out into a parking lot full of tall grass."