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No. 1465
File: 122706389294.jpg-(71.29KB, 800x600, IMG_0162.jpg)
I dream I am a dolphin.
So majestic, the feeling of freedom and grace, the ability to fly, almost literally, through the air. I am a god of maneuverability; I jet through the water, my heart joyous and free, nothing impinging on me.
Most of the time I encounter like-minded seabeings, other consciousnesses in the vast, deep blue. Other dolphins. We join our songs together and sing, then we share our bodies, our warmths, our souls. The heat, searing and boiling slowly fades and we melt back into our individual selves. It is an almost lonely feeling, but it comes with more enlightenment about the nature of oneself and taking a piece of the other.
Other times, it is much worse.
The sea turns to storm, and heaven's rage pours out of the skies. The thunder and churning of water is deafening. Large boats filled with men approach; they make even more noise, banging on metal and shouting and shrieking. Others like me flee before them, but there isn't any escape. Drawn in by thick nets, everyone is crammed into the smallest space possible in a rocky harbor. There is panic, the primary sound of alien screaming, ultrasonic terror, the chill of death creeping up from your tail. Individuals are wounded, poked by sharp prongs and spears and harpoons before being taken by hook, right through their tail.
I am ensnared.
One of the fishermen drives the sharp spike straight through my tail, and the pain burns uncontrollably. A stinging numbness crawls through the extremity before feeling limp and dead. I am grabbed and manhandled, dumped into the bed of a truck and tied to a hook. The truck is full of my comrades, some thrashing, full of life and fear, but a few have already laid quiet, their spirits broken as the end closes in.
It feels dark.
The truck moves and I slip out along the moist truckbed. There is a moment of impact, and the most intense pain shoots through me.
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