The giant squid in my bath brings back memories of childhood.

I’ve been reading Kraken the last couple of nights, still at that getting-to-know-the-characters stage where a misstep could make the difference between a short, unhappy affair and a long relationship.  But last night I was really tired, so after about twenty pages, I found myself getting sleepy, and gave in to the desire to nap while floating in my pond of hot, patchouli-scented water.  And into that nap,  Kraken inserted the tentacles of unsettling dreams, the memory of which is simply visceral.  They were weird.  I mean freakin’ weird, though not scary at all.  I know this because I woke slowly, thinking, “Isn’t life odd?”

Later, when I thought about dreams and giant squids I was reminded of a dream I had when I was much younger.  I dreamed I was a giant squid, swimming in an alien ocean, and as I swam I was reciting to myself the history of my people.  When I gazed upwards, I saw the sunlight on the surface of the water, and it looked like a sky filled with stars.

It was a beautiful dream.  I wish I could remember more like it, but dreams like that are rare.

Isn’t life odd?


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