The dream began like any other; with sleep.
Through the foggy logic of a sleep-addled brain in the throes of REM, there emerged the scene of a typical school yard. Based loosely on Ouyen Secondary College, the grounds were grassy and dotted with scrappy trees struggling to survive in the harsh Mallee climate. The family dinner was going well, the table at which we were seated facing a wall of glass that looked out over the change rooms.
I need the toilet, said I.
We, (Melanie and I) approached the labyrinth of cubicles and toilets with apprehension.
Great! Exclaimed one of the two cleaning girls, now we'll have to wash the floors again!
The cubicles were open and exposed, none of the choices including the sanctuary of privacy. I turned corners and ducked down behind low walls, finding a toilet that was hidden from the view of the other five or so girls that had entered the maze. A cleaner followed me.
Oh, that's disgusting, she declared.
You can stay if you like, I offered.
Thankfully, she left me to my 'business'. It was messy. I tried to clean myself up but barely succeeded. I was swamped by a crowd of girls.
You have poo on your jacket, one informed me.
Guess I'll have to shower, then. Seemed simple enough to me. I showered in the cubicle beside the toilet and dressed in the change of clothes that I had been sensible enough to bring with me. I tied the dirty clothes into a plastic bag and left the smelly bundle in the caravan.
Tori's excitement was palpable as she led me into a dress shop. She had seen an outfit that she believed would be perfect. As I studied a green, tulle-ruffled dress I could feel the whisperings of a touch on my left butt-cheek. I turned and faced the five-year-old Chinese girl who had been the culprit.
What are you doing?
I'm kissing your bum.
Oh! I guess that made sense to me.
I smell blood, she said.
I smell it too, I agreed.
The ocean sparkled with a million diamonds beneath a startling blue sky. The water was warm and clear, the world beneath the surface a dazzling display of colours, shapes and metallic movement. Fish darted between orange and yellow coral, while stalks of seaweed waved sleepily as we swam by. We collected interesting objects. A purple grasshopper that was chewing on a pink anemone. I saw a fish that seemed to be decorated with gold leaf, but it was only half a fish. Denver showed me her hand. It had become its own reef, a glove of small plants and tiny coral that stopped at her wrist.
Rub it off! I squealed. But she shrugged and googled what it could be.
Turtle dust. She said. And the miniature reef was in the shape of a turtle and no longer on her hand.
We swam to the balcony and went inside.
When I returned to the ocean's edge later Tori had turned Parris into a long pink fish and was tossing her among the coral-choked reef. The barracuda grinned at me as it glided past.
Tori! Get her out of there, she'll get eaten! But pink-fish-Parris was nowhere to be seen. Denver jogged past, her bare feet thumping on the wooden deck.
Denver! Don't go in there, there is a barracuda! They eat feet! But there was only a splash in reply. Denver turned to face me, confusion written on her face and she tread water. I jumped the railing, ready to haul her back in just as the Barracuda sunk its razor sharp teeth into Denver's foot. She gasped and screamed then flailed as she was dragged beneath the water.
I told her they eat feet.
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