I have been working on a post about desire, in which I compared it to water of a flood: once it starts to rise, how can you stop it?

I am still trying to collect my thoughts fully, but working on it seemed to affect my dreams. Water. Water everywhere.

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Does desire decay like some old ruins?

First I remember trying to explain geology and tectonics to my father while discussing the San Andreas fault. As I explained the Pacific plate being submerged under the North American plate, I could see it happening: the water, the two plates, the signs of pressure before giving away.

Then I was at the office and suddenly remembered we had a small fish tank (it was about the size of a yardstick and shaped the same–long and skinny, and maybe only 5″ tall). Because our office manager rage quit, I suddenly realized no one had been checking in on the goldfish.

[The office doesn’t really have goldfish, but our office manager really did rage quit.]

The tank had been left on a table in a corner, neglected with piles of crap in front of it, making it even less likely anyone even knew they existed to check on them. I pulled the tank away to examine how things were going. There were bloated goldfish, and a number floating at the top. The ones that still lived were so bloated that I wondered if they had started to cannibalize the rest.

I threw some fish food in and then got distracted by work. I was amused, reflecting back on how much has changed in my two years here. “Remember when support didn’t have access to X and engineers had to do it for us?” — that sort of thing. I then started playing a card game but didn’t put it away when finished.

I saw two other coworkers, Mikey and Mel, playing a different game. Suddenly someone had come up from behind me and given me a giant bear hug. My thoughts immediately: Who the fuck are you, and why are you hugging me?!

It turned out to be some remote employees (sales) in the office for a conference. Alcoholic beverages were brought out, and now that I was free of this bear hug, I went to grab one and join my colleagues playing their game. There were strange cards, not poker, but something you’d expect more for D&D–combat cards and spells or effects. Strange stuff.

But our office transformed to outside. We were near the shore, on a collapsible boardwalk, and a water show was about to start. I realized I should immediately put away my own board game I had left out–but the ground collapsed before I could reach it. A piece of the office was floating away; someone saw me trying to get to it, and tried to grab it for me and stop the cards from slipping off. Instead, he inadvertantly rocked the piece in trying to save it, knocking all the cards into the water. The area I was in collapsed into a bench to watch the water show. More pieces of the game (cards, tokens, poker chips) fell through the cracks and into the sea.

A warning was announced that you would get wet.

I watched as the ocean roiled, and dark waves, bigger than any I had ever seen, began to swell.

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