Arrow Lake The terror you feel in quiet moments is not misplaced, just mistimed

In the calm warmth of a sea off the coast of Florida, Dragomir floated with the rest of his bloom. They numbered several hundred and seemed to all be in sync as they drifted along, bells pulsing to a silent beat. He let his tentacles swing through the water just ahead of him as he bobbed in place, followed by frilly oral arms that reached and swept any stunned plankton into the mouth at the bottom of his bell. As he buoyed along in this manner, consuming plankton and expelling the waste all from the same orifice, he found himself wondering, what is the point of all this?

That was one of the last times Dragomir would visit one of his hundreds of different realities outside of dreaming, for he was brought abruptly back to the present by a strange sensation around his sealed eyelids. Without consciously dictating it, the wolf cub awkwardly scrubbed at his face with the side of one of his pudgy forelegs. When he resettled himself with a yawn, he did so with a startled blink of two denim blue eyes as blurry images suddenly began to register, blocking out the images of his roaring imagination.

He couldn't make out much except for how bright it was, an unpleasant feeling he met with a squeak and a squint. But besides that, it was all much too interesting to close them again. All he could do was stare wondrously up at the indistinct blots of light and shadow that made up the thicket's canopy.

Forward dated to April 12 for something new to write about.