I hope dream-Port of San Diego has forgiven me for unleashing this on it last night.
Last night’s dreams had a theme, in fact, and that was “enthusiasm.” Not the kind that DeNiro talked about in The Untouchables before beating on the brat
Enthusiasm. It’s possible. And neat.
Back to the whale. I’d gotten the whale, somehow, to the bay San Diego sits on, and was trying to arrange for it to get fed, which was a little hard with not always knowing exactly where the whale was -- ah, the metaphor of ocean, still waters running deep and with unknown depths and all that -- but then BOOM there it was, popping up out of the water and somehow (whoa) smiling, and barreling around so that boats and swimmers needed to get out of the way (I almost wrote “scurry,” but it’s HARD to scurry in water), and the whale seemed constantly on the verge of running into and damaging stuff -- and I’ve read Nathaniel Philbrick's In the Heart of the Sea, about the sperm whale attack that was an inspiration for Moby-Dick, and even if I hadn’t read that I would know how much damage that that much barreling whale can cause, so: yeah. There was scrambling.
Still, it was exciting.
So! Good morning. At least I hope it’s good.