I was on a huge boat, a carrier of some sort, with a group that was something like
Greenpeace, maybe 15 years from now.
Martin Sheen was there, and a guy that looked like
Jude Law, four or five others. We all dove into the ocean, a small island was a mile or so away. We'd put some sort of organic substance in the water, to help heal the
dolphins and
manatee and
whales in the area, from some cancerous
result of pollution. The guy that looked like Jude had been the one to put the stuff in the water, a delicate procedure, because if you put too much in, it could kill the animals. For some reason, it would profit Jude if he killed the animals, but we trusted him to use his skill and save them. We dove in the water, saw the dolphins first, as they came to greet us. Their blowholes were ripped around the edges, as if they'd contracted but were used with full force anyway; the dolphin and manatee's eyes were milky with
cataracts, yet they were full of innocent glee to see us, nudging us, helping us to shore. Jude had started to give them an overdose but had changed his mind, injuring them, but not killing them. We swam to shore, him the fastest. I jumped onto the rocks of shore and grabbed him around the neck in a headlock, screaming, crying, threatening. Martin Sheen pulled me away. Jude, like a beaten bully, skulked away in shame.
I was with an artsy group of friends, outside a huge art gallery, before a big show of "new art". One of these friends was one of those t.v. actresses who's had lots of
bit parts, but nobody can remember her name. She acted as needed to earn
money for making art. She had made this amazing sculpture/painting that incorporated paint, clay, canvas and human parts,
not creepy, amazing. The canvas was about three feet tall, three
blond women, life-size necks and faces, two painted, but one was real, not
a real woman, but one that had been assembled by this artist. Her sandy blond hair drifted from paint gradually into real blond locks; I reached out and touched it, realizing the reality of her. The artist had begun to make simple communication with this sculptured woman. She had taught her a sign for "fish." The artist would put her hands sideways and wiggle her fingers, curving her hands in and out, toward the sculpture woman, making her fingers look like a
school of little fish swimming forward. The sculpture woman smiled and made a soft sound like music, like a child, that, to her, meant "fish."