Strange dream last night.

I’m in a boat at sea, not far from a white sandy shore. The water looks Caribbean crystal blue and my sailboat has just moved out to a point where the water runs deep enough that I can’t see the ocean floor anymore. There’s a square hole in the middle of my boat, but water doesn’t come up through it to flood the vessel. It’s like an ice-fishing hole, but in a boat. I’m crouched naked over this hole, dangling my balls as bait. This is apparently my idea of fishing.

I’m peering down into the water, looking to see if anything good is coming my way. I see a figure approach and move from a crouch into a bit more of a standing position, moving ever so slightly so as to dangle my balls invitingly to whatever is approaching. A head peeks out of the water – it’s a redheaded mermaid. Not Ariel-like, no. This is no innocent bright-eyed mermaid. This is the demon slut of all mermaids. She’s irresistibly hot, and she looks hungry. She jumps like a flying fish, cups my balls in her mouth cleanly, and comes away with them, just plucks them right off. No blood, just flat skin where they were once attached.

She dives back down into the water, and the boat begins to flood, so I do the only thing I can think to do, which is dive after her, and a chase ensues as I pursue that flicking scaly tail ahead of me. Somehow I can breathe underwater, and it becomes clear to me that I could always breathe underwater if I didn’t have my balls. But I want my balls back, so I keep on swimming, deeper and deeper, and I seem to be catching up to the thieving wench, aware that if I do get my balls back I won’t be able to breathe underwater anymore and I’ll just drown.

Distractions flood into my field of vision from every which direction. I am in an underwater wonderland, and all around me tales of the sea unfold. Births and deaths, fights, killings, migrations, and I’m writing it all down in my head. I still swim on but I’m losing her, losing her as I try to remember the stories all around me, and I’m scribbling with one hand on the other, without ink, and the real fiction all around me is engrained in my head with each phantom movement of finger on flesh.

The temptress turns and dangles my balls, far ahead of me, and I am stuck in the middle of everything, unable to make the choices I need to make.