On Saturday I went sailing on my dad’s 30-foot yacht. I made the boat sink, but I can’t remember why. The half-submerged sails continued powering the boat forward, and as the last of the rig slipped beneath the surface, I somehow remained standing on something solid, yet I knew I eventually had to jump off. Before I leapt, the water seeping through my trouser pocket to my iPhone, I dunked my head and looked through my expensive sunglasses for sharks. Sure enough, one was waiting below near the hull. This morning, drifting back into consciousness, I felt disappointed that my iPhone was ruined.
I do everything in my dreams except see a shrink to get my reality interpreted.
