Not a Blob, But a Trout

Well this morning my laptop refuses to connect to the Internet, or perhaps the Internet is refusing to connect to my laptop. In either case, this may mean that I am not meant to write anything.

I, however, am seeking to frustrate destiny by typing in Word with the intent to later revisit the Internet, and thus my blog, when cyberspace is in a better mood, and post at that time.

I wonder if this is irreverent—or worse yet, a direct disobedience?

Oh well, never mind. Inventiveness is man's unavoidable curse.

I am thinking again about the mysterious blob near the beginning of time; or rather, I was thinking about it last night before I fell asleep. It is the last thing I remember, that blob. I did not, however, dream of the blob, but dreamed of catching an enormous fish and pulling it to the shore—a fish as large as my Labrador. I was showing the fish to some children and petting it as if it were a Labrador; and I was wondering whether to kill the fish and keep it, or release it back to the water.

The way one usually kills a fish—a trout, anyway—is by inserting ones thumb in its mouth and snapping the head back, thus breaking the neck. But in the case of this very large fish, it was clear that this method would be unfeasible.

Should I shoot the fish then? But of course I had no gun.

Even were I to somehow manage to kill the fish, how would I carry it back home to the frying pan? It was certainly not going to fit in my fishing bag, any more than my Labrador would. How then to get the fish home? And where to find a frying pan nearly as big as the kitchen itself?

Now what was the meaning of this dream—a very real dream, a very vivid dream, and yet distant and obscure, perplexing, not to mention ridiculous.

And so maybe I dreamed of the mysterious blob after all. What to make of the thing? How to contain it? How to comprehend it? How to digest it?

All I know is that I woke up with my arm around the dog, patting his stomach, wondering how he had gotten there, sleeping next to me like a spoon, and why it had occurred to him that I might appreciate it.