money in the wind

I was sitting inside at a vast open window, looking out at people passing by while I sharpened coloured pencils. There must have been hundreds of pencils and I had to sharpen them all before I could draw. The bucket of pencil shavings was half-full and my sharpener was dull. For some reason, my wallet was sitting on the window sill and every so often money would flutter out and blow into the street - ten dollars, twenty dollars, fifty dollars. Each time, people made an effort to help catch my money and return it, but a few times the money was lost. Once, a dog snatched my money out of the air and ran away with it in his teeth.

swept away

I lived in a home with a small back deck, backing onto a river. The deck had no railing and it was perched only a few feet above the water. A friend visited us and she was wearing amazing clothing: a black and red pin-striped three-piece suit, long black high-heeled boots under her pants, and a black suede coat with an intricate cut-out pattern. For some reason, she changed her outfit and left her incredible clothes on the deck. The next day, I was on the phone with another friend, pacing about the house. As I walked past the glass doors leading to the deck, I realised that during the night the tide had risen and water had washed over the deck, sweeping away the clothing. I hung up the phone and, wearing all my clothes, dived off the back deck into the water. Under the water, I could see her pants here, a boot there, but also some eels - fat eels with pronounced eyes and each with pinkish frill along its body. At first I was afraid but soon I realised they were simply curious; they meant no harm. I even saw one swim through the glass doors into the living room and out again. I only vaguely thought about whether this meant there was water in the house. Surfacing to deposit clothing on the back deck or to breathe, I slowly retrieved all of my friend's beautiful clothing. The next day my friend returned. We walked onto the back deck and, again, no clothes. The tide had risen a second time and swept her clothes into the river. Fully clothed, I dived into the river, this time with my friend. Peering around under the water, we could see her clothing here and there; most pieces had travelled further down the river this time. I felt something bite my arm and, looking down, I saw a worm burrowing into my skin. I grabbed its tail between my fingers and pulled. Its body broke in two, but both pieces wriggled away through the water. It looked remarkably like the eel with a pink frill around its body, but with no eyes to speak of. Another worm bit then burrowed into my skin. For a moment I was horrified, but it reappeared in one piece, seemingly no harm done. Again, we retrieved my friend's clothing. I noticed the feel of the quality fabric and the cut of the garments as I fished them out of the water. Suddenly, there was no water; just a dry river bed. We walked along, away from the house, following the trail of clothing. I looked back to the house and could see a wall of water rushing toward us. 'Jump up', I called to my friend, and we jumped and found ourselves swept along by the water, but safe on its surface. Later, back on the deck, I worried about the remaining items of clothing we'd not been able to retrieve. 'Don't worry about it', said my friend. 'It's only clothes.'