Meatball Beach

A dream.

I'm a tall, well built, six foot tall man, with short blond hair and a full red beard. There is a touch of white in my beard right below my lip that makes me look like I'm about to say something. It's night and the summer breeze blows the last clouds over the horizon. The moon is a sliver in the sky and is unusually bright as it illuminates the beach in front of me. I'm holding a long silver broad sword that is as light as the gentle waves lapping at the shore. The beach rises steeply, but walking up the grade isn't a challenge. As I reach the top I notice a small circular depression.

Waving my sword over the circle causes a single ferroelectric meatball the size of a golf ball to rise out of the ground in the center of the small pit. My sword, and apparently strong magnet, can now control the meatball and I sent it toward the sea. I wave my sword over the now embossed circular rune and another meatball is raised from the depths of the sand. I also send it on its way to the sea. I continue doing so until there is a mound of meatballs that stands as high as a small child, and the sand that collected on the meatballs on their journey toward the sea has turned into a fine powdered sugar that sparkles in the moonlight.

Torches appear and I get ready for the party. I'm the host to an elegant sea side ball, but I'm nervous. The two women in my life, Stacy and Carol, are soon to arrive and I want to please them. I eat some sweet but delicious meatballs and entertain guests until they arrive. Stacy and Carol show up together, both in debonair purple dresses. Stacy's is backless and she twirls around constantly, to everyone’s oh's and ah's. Carol has a strapless dress and leans slightly back, which produces a similar, yet noticeably smaller reaction.

The scene suddenly changes and Carol and I are on vacation in New England. We are sitting in a large wooden cabin that also happens to be a bar and grill. We're sitting at a table with two pirate captains. It turns out that the captains are also our tour guides and want to show us a beautiful lake. The largest lake in the world, they claim, that just happens to be rather close by. Carol and I agree, below our breath, that there is no way the lake could be larger than Lake Superior.

Carol admits that she's drunk, and I notice for the first time a strange color-changing liquid that she has been drinking the entire time. How the liquid is staying in the Klein bottle she has is a mystery to me but I quickly dismiss my doubt. I have a glass of the now blue liquid myself. Immediately I find that I'm drunk as well, and that now all four of us are on the trail to the lake. Carol pulls me aside to ask me a question, but something is wrong.