I hold my breath, but I need to breathe, but I'm hiding
in the ocean. By whatever dreamlogic
I decide to risk filling my lungs with water, and suddenly it's a non-issue because water breathes the same as air.
Sunlight traces down through the water, showing up sparkles on every dustmote. The fishes are fascinating, gold glass skin delicately etched with scales and washed in watercolors. Some have jaws of protruding needle teeth; I shoo them off when they get too close for comfort; porpoises disable sharks by ramming them, and I assume a swift blow to any fish should paralyze it. Ghostly jellyfish drift aimlessly, innards streaked with ribbons of rust-colored tissue. I have seen how they are like a mushroom ringed inside with stingers; I blow a jet of water when one gets too close.
All this cool soundless dancing with jellyfish distracts me from the other danger. A grouper with impossible rows of fangs latches onto my hand... you know how carnivorous fish can smell blood for miles... I am paralyzed like an abused tuna, and wake with a start.