In my dream, I was high in the sky hovering over the turquoise sea, and while I had no idea what was holding me up, I knew I had to let go. Gripping a pencil in one hand and a ladder in the other, I let go but good, not really wondering whether I should have kept the ladder to break my fall and save me from a sure death. Before I knew it, I was frolicking in the warm, salty water and the ladder stretched out before me, floating on the surface, and I swam over, lay down and used it as a raft. My only concern was that I would attract sharks, but my fear was unfounded, my life was intact and my pencil in hand.
Last night, I went to the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts and to see the exhibit Cuba! Art and History. There was a photograph that struck me, for obvious reasons, of a man tripping on the edge of a stone wall, falling into the sea.
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