I am at my friend
Lisa's new house (which I have never been to in conscious time), and we are looking at her fish tank. Inside the tank, she has huge, scaly fish - I know that they are shedding
coelecanths. She also has
seahorses. We decide to go for a walk, and head outside.
We are hiking along pebbled terrain, and the pebbles are stuck together the way that
rice krispies are when they are turned into treats. Sticky and crumbly, the pebbles are all terra cotta colored, and difficult to walk on. There is nothing to see for miles, and we feel hopeless when we find one of the skins of the shedding coelecanth. It is a perfect replica of the fish, only hollow and white - there are
bamboo hoop-like structures keeping the skin rigid. We decide to leave.
We are in the airport now, with the coelecanth skin, and I am trying to assemble my green
backpack. It has three distinct parts which must be attached before it will function at all, and I have lost one of the parts. The
airport officials allow me to search all of the planes for the missing part. I carry the fish skin with me at all times, checking overhead
compartments.
I never found the part.