The Dream

I am walking under water, slowly, awkwardly, because I am encased in a ‘deep-sea’ diving suit: thick, heavy rubber, the sleeves ending in clumsy gloves, a huge globe of a helmet, and on my feet, great metal boots. As I ponderously move my legs, I am aware that I am treading on all manner of nasty things: crabs scuttle away – some are not quick enough and I hear them crunch underfoot. There are other things too; I can’t see them but I can feel them: slithery, slimy abominations, they brush against my rubberised legs. And although I know that neither they nor the crabs can harm me, I am sweating with a mixture of fear and disgust.
The water seems to clear, and I detect a movement out of the corner of my eye. With difficulty, I turn my head. To my right, there is a large metal cage; inside are about a dozen creatures: although they resemble huge pike, these ‘things’ are hardly fish, for they have the snouts of crocodiles; sharp teeth gleam in their gaping red mouths as they snap their jaws. But the worst thing is their colour: grey, like dead flesh. The reptile fish appear to be decaying – yet they are still very much alive. They have seen me. Wild, bloodshot eye fasten in a malevolent stare, and they begin to butt against the bars. Suddenly, a door in the cage opens. Here they come. Heading straight for me. I think my suit will protect me but I am not sure. One of the ‘things’ has sunk its jaws into the rubber of my sleeve. I jerk my arm and shake it off. They are all around me now. I turn and try to get away. My legs move as in ‘slow motion’, my steel boots dragging in the silt. I am breathing heavily now, and I start to worry about my air supply: will the men ‘on top’ continue to keep turning the big wheel, pumping air into my helmet? What if they tire? Just stop pumping?

Then I am walking up a gradual slope, the water above me becoming lighter with each step I take.