shark drifted lazily through the water, the shark-shaped pool toy they were riding bobbing up and down in a gentle rocking motion. the walls were tiled, a perfectly clean sterile white, stretching up to the high ceilings, and stretching forward and curving into other rooms in the distance.

it was all so vivid. the texture of the pool toy, the light on the tiles and the water, the small, gentle waves, the feeling of being moved by them, the sounds of the water and the toy squeaking whenever they shifted, even the smell of chlorine.

they were moving in a specific direction, the water carrying them to another room, slowly but surely. the pool toy was too big for them to really paddle or kick without moving too much and possibly falling off of it, and they felt sort of resigned to going wherever the water took them, anyway. they wanted to see what else there was, and they had a feeling there was a point to it, a specific place they were meant to end up.

everything was so slow, so monotonous, so empty, the tiles just seeming to repeat forever. somehow, it was relaxing, familiar. it felt right. they wanted to be there, to stay there.

the lighting did change as they moved forward and curved through something like a tunnel, or a hallway, becoming dimmer, with a light purple glow underneath the water, the smell of chlorine changing to lavender soap, little petals floating along the surface. there was a mist or steam coming off of the water now, obscuring the room they were gradually being pushed toward.

shark slumped over a bit on the pool toy, leaning forward, lying on it more than sitting on it, looking more at the water than the walls, watching the ripples. the tunnel was becoming smaller and rounder around them, more contained, more narrow. it was a strange feeling, like that mist, that lavender, that purple glow, were getting stronger and more concentrated.

they couldn't articulate exactly what it was, but they understood something about what was going on. they felt a kind of deep satisfaction from it, a kind of acceptance, that only made them relax more.

they finally arrived at a larger room, still smaller than the first one they'd been in, but bigger than the tunnel. it had that same purple glow and lavender soap smell, and the same tiled walls, and the same petals drifting along the water - but through the mist, they saw giant, still statures of human hands, perfectly sculpted in detail, with creases and veins and fingernails. there were six of them, all frozen in beckoning or pointing gestures, focused on the center of the room.

they realized as they got closer to that center and looked into the water that there were actually two more hands just under the surface, cupped together, the way you would cup your hands together to hold water, or to take something out of the water.

even in their sleepy, lazy haze, their heart pounded as they stopped right above those hands, and saw them lift, until they carried the water, and the pool toy, and shark up higher, holding them in that tiny pool. the hands created a perfect seal, nothing leaking out.

from there, when they looked ahead, they could see something in the wall, a hole with a giant eye in it, staring right at them. they couldn't tell if it was another statue, or decoration, or an actual eye, but it had a distinct shape, with distinct creases around it. just like with the hands, it wasn't just an abstract representation of an eye - it belonged to a specific person.

they couldn't put their finger on who it was, but they could feel it. they knew it, as they continued to stare.

as heavy and sluggish as they felt, they still got off of their pool toy - the water was shallow enough that they could walk in it.

they walked along the hands, over to the fingers, leaning against them as they looked at the eye, mindlessly rubbing their hands against the statue.

it felt good. that was all they could think. it was nice being in those hands. almost trapped in them. even in that strange, giant, empty pool, they ended up here, in this little bit of shallow water, being held, being watched, like they were never really alone to begin with.

they knew they were dreaming. a part of them knew the whole time. and they knew, as they felt their body get heavy, as they sank down into that puddle of water, their hands sliding down those long, slender, familiar fingers, that even this dream wasn't really theirs.