I often dream of fish. I have no way of explaining this, but my
dreams are regularly swimming with fish, jumping with them. This has been so for as long as I can remember. Trout.
Small fish gathering about me in clear waters. Fish from the sea
Why not dogs?
Why not songbirds?
I don’t know.
For the last two weeks, I have been
sparring with the flu. More recently, I
have been sleeping fitfully at night.
Yesterday, by 2:00 afternoon, after jabbing at my computer for the
better part of the day, I flopped back on my sofa, thinking I might catch a
nap. I lay there for perhaps fifteen
minutes, gradually shrinking away from the daylight and the immediate sounds of
light winds nosing at the bay windows.
Finally, I settled into a shallow
state of dream. I was fishing inside
some kind of industrial building whose lower levels were filled with water and
populated with dark fish. On my second
cast into one of the lower level lochs, a big fish struck. As habit dictates, I pulled back hard on my
fishing rod to set the hook.
I woke with a jerk on my sofa. I lay there confused, blinking forcefully to
ward off the too-bright light.
Damn you, big fish!
-- Mitchell
Hegman
Fish = Uyen
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