March 23, 2009

Eugene, OR

             Last night I had a dream. In it I frantically searched for water as my tank fish were somewhere in the swampy carpet of someone’s living room. I couldn’t find the de-chlorinator, no matter where I searched. I kept looking at the carpet, wondering if my fish were all right. But somehow I couldn’t see the fish in the shaggy soggy carpet. Crabs began to crawl about, which I thought was rather curious.

             I woke from my dream and thought of my dream. How odd it was! It was only two days ago that I removed Sprinkles, the smaller pearl gourami, from the work tank. Goldie, the larger gold gourami, wounded Sprinkles after days of relentless rage. The two had to be separated before things became fatal. In the home tank Sprinkles seemed to be relieved that the fish were all smaller. This morning he appeared to recover well from his dilemma. 

             A little later as I walked into work, I noticed something was different.  As I approached the tanks, I suddenly stopped and gasped! There, on the floor, not far from the watery home, was Goldie. It was hard to tell how long he lay there, perhaps very recent or from the night before. His piscine body lay there lifeless and stiff. I found a makeshift glove and gently picked up the corpse. (I mean, I can’t just pick it up with my fingers… yuck.) I took him outside and found a nice place for a burial. After a few deep thoughts of Goldie’s life in the tank, I returned inside. 

             In the tank was Pancake, the large, long-finned, classic silver-black angel. He didn’t greet me like he always does. He stayed in the back of the tank, withdrawn and staring at the back wall. I almost thought for a moment that I sensed a bit of wrongdoing from him. I couldn’t distinguish the look on his face to gauge, whether he actually chased Goldie out, or if I projected guilt upon him. I easily remembered when the same fish murdered my gorgeous veil-tailed angel, Chocolate, two years prior. Either way, I think he knew I was pissed.

             A few moments later I stopped and reflected on the soggy and shaggy carpet in my dream. I somehow must have felt the unconscious energy of my doomed Goldie while flapping helplessly on the floor. And perhaps before his last fruitless gulp for water, he thought of his feeder while I dreamt and felt his panicked energy. Or maybe he looked back at Pancake, and with the last bit of strength, stuck up his middle fin.

I – Fish