I don't know why we swim to the bottom of the ocean. There are at least five of us. We hold our breaths and go down. It is quiet, though now and then somebody makes a noise in his throat to indicate agreement or disagreement.
Eventually a few of us have to go back up. The dog is with me. He is patient. His body, which knows to stay limp, fits in my hand. We go straight up. When we break the surface, we breathe delicately. Somehow we know to do this, the dog knows this.
When I look back down, the ground is firm again. We had swum up from underneath the floor. The surface contains a sheen.
Then there's something about paying for the hotel room in cash (the credit card machine isn't working), but nobody has cash. The dog and I are exhausted, and wait sleepily at a table for our turn.
On the floor of the ocean
in dreams