The Big One

I dreamed I was fishing on a boat docked at a pier that was a favorite spot for serious anglers to catch world record sized fish of all kinds. Commercial fishing boats trolled the waters nearby, their catches providing much of the local economy's revenue. The air was salty and the sky was overcast; the smell of fish bait mixed with caramel corn gave the place a seaside carnival-like atmosphere.

I felt a little out of place with my little freshwater rod and reel, but I lazily cast out my line anyway. I was soon jarred into action by the familiar tug on the line, followed by the zippity-click sound of the loosely set drag as it let out yard after yard of fishing line. 

I tightened up on the drag a bit and began to reel whatever it was toward the boat. It had other ideas and took off parallel to the boat crossing the lines of many other somewhat perturbed fishermen. I somehow managed to steer it back towards me and avoided getting tangled up with them. They still were none too happy to see a rookie getting action, and they had to remain ready to reel in their lines at a moment's notice, per fishing etiquette.

After a little back and forth, reeling and releasing, the fish was finally near the boat. When it broke the surface I got my first glimpse of my prize. It was giant grouper-like fish that they were calling a "groucette," which was a local name for a fish that was a cross between a grouper and a halibut. Their disdain of me and my tiny, inappropriate gear was being replaced by envy and admiration as they began to estimate the weight of the fish from its size in the water.

"I'd say it was 2000 lbs at least," said one.

"Gonna bring in a pretty penny, that one," said another.

Someone alerted the netter, an employee of a charter company based on the pier, and he got in a dinghy and guided the fish into a net that was attached to a crane and winch which was conveniently located right where I was fishing. They began cranking it in, slowly lifting it out of the water, its giant mass straining the capacity of the net and bending the metal of the crane just a bit. It was likely to be a record haul for the pier, if not the entire angling world.

I began making arrangements to sell it to a local fish market. I intended to keep some of the cuts for myself, but would it would exceed the capacity of my freezer, so I was calculating just how much money I'd make on the bulk of the meat after paying the processing fees. It was going to be a pretty profitable afternoon, I imagined.

That's about where that dream left off. I had another dream that involved me riding a BMX bike around some mountainous terrain. The trails were adjacent to a giant chasmous crater. I was following Juan Paul, an ex-employee of YC Honda around as we skirted the perimeter of the abyss. Flirting with death in a most precocious manner, we were getting as close as possible to the edge without falling in. My tires sent pebbles dribbling down the steep hillside as I drifted ever closer to the point of sliding towards certain death.

I managed to escape with impunity, and showed off a bit more by doing some tricks on another steep hillside basin that formed a kind of natural half-pipe, going up and turning around rapidly, defying gravity for a moment or two, then descending back down the hill. 

After that, I found myself in someone's '99 Honda Accord, assisting in the replacement of its audio unit. Someone had installed an aftermarket stereo and done a pretty hacked job of it. I was showing the lady and her son how the panels came apart and pointed out several broken pieces held in place with screws that should have been removed before attempting to pry them off. The remaining pieces were fastened with clips which snapped in and popped out if you knew just where to pry. 

That's about all I got. Besides the strange rash on my calves and a sore on my backside from the car trip, I am mostly intact. The sunburn I got from walking 10 miles to the guitar store on Sunday will prohibit me from doing much in the way of outdoor activities today. I will try to find a 9 volt battery for the guitar and will attempt to return a fanny pack containing a woman's driver's license, house key and some assorted items to it's rightful owner. 

I'd found the bag on a bus stop, abandoned and forlorn, with a frisbee sitting next to it. Inside the pack, along with a lot of ladies grooming essentials, lipstick, toothbrush, phone charger, earphones, and some loose change, I also found a small baggie with some unidentified white powder in it. A loose bud of some pretty nice smelling cannabis rounded out the potpourri.

Time to get my butt out of bed, do my exercises and get to making my breakfast.