I was in water
, somewhere between a rock-encircled cove and a swimming pool. The water felt a little green, like that of a pool, but the rocks were tall and granite with the sun
beyond them. I was on my own, first of all; there were rats of incredible size, about a foot and a half long not counting their tails, but I had a complete sense of security
, so they worried me not. Vile though they were, with pale fur and bloated bellies. Lying like the dead in a crevice, they didn't stir.
Then, by some shift, the cove became a tiled swimming pool, and Christine was their, with her father. She seemed very small, very childish; but then soon enough I gained a sense of innocence, too, to some extent. It permeated the place. Her father left to get something from their car, and she was standing looking into the water and at the people in the pool. I never felt cold even once. As if cold, or worry or anything else which could disturb the calmness, didn't exist. She didn't see me before I approached her; startled but delighted.
We swam underwater. If I had to find something to approach it from reality I would take the ending scene from Being John Malkovich, when Emily swims, the world is warm and Bjork sings. It was peaceful and without cares. Something I never experienced with her in reality. It ended so, after a little while.