My Dream of the Ocean: A Narrative Fiction

Ships do not sink because they have too many people on them. Anything that floats in or under the water could pop a hole, spring a leak or snap a bolt. What is needed is enough hands on deck to keep up the repairs.
I woke up drowning again, gasping in the air as if I’d swallowed water. There was plenty of it about me. Sheets of it were sure to be falling from the sky and pounding dimpled rows into the waves. The ocean was yellow green where the light shown through the surface but here, it was black. Always.
Scrubbing the uneven stubble on my newly shaved head, I brought my hands over my face and let the warmth of the palms sink into my skin. They blocked the dim red light from the clock and let me wallow in darkness for another moment. When I took them away, it was almost too bright in the room.
At my round window, I ran my fingers around the seal. No excess moisture, in fact it was getting dry. I'd have to apply oil soon so little spaces wouldn't develop along the glass edge. Little pockets of air could cause splits in the thirsty suction of the vacuum seal. The interior temperature also needed to be dialed down even though I was chilled. My oil drum, with its smiling picture of a girl holding an ear of corn to her cheek, was still three quarters full. But this, my protective bubble consumed altogether too much oil. It was something I'd thought we'd never run out of, used vegetable oil. At the Fair they'd deep fry butter for some unfathomable reason.
When I first discovered how to combine rubber and metal on a molecular level, I was sure I'd be set for life. But nobody had a use for it. Metal or rubber worked just fine all by themselves I was told. It was too heavy and flexible at the same time. It repelled in unexpected ways,...

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...nd diving away.
The dog lay down and with his eyes rolled at the sky, sniffed the blacked fingers. I thought he was going to take a bite but instead, he licked it and scooted closer, snuggling in. He stared over his shoulder at me to make sure I was still there. I understand loyalty when I see it.
Over the next few days, I left food, fresh water. I sat and watched. I sang lullabies under the sun and wept at the moon. I fought beside him against the seagulls, screaming and throwing rocks when they got near his dead friend until the day he left her and came to me. We buried her under speckled rocks and handfuls of sand. When he’d adjusted to Moby and would sleep next to me on the pullout bed, I was ready. We went in search of my X island where we could run in the sweet grass and eat wild fruit and live off the land. It might be the end but at least I’d have company.