Mud-Grilled Sad Fish Dream

There is a psychokiller somewhere behind a fish tank. I see him holding a syringe, and I'm not sure who it is for. I'm afraid of him seeing me and attacking me so I turn into a bird and fly far away.

I land in a village where everyone is walking around barefoot. It's gross because there are huge piles of black dog shit everywhere and I have to avoid stepping in them. A little boy comes and tells me to go to his family's tent to play. His mother, father and older brother are all home, grilling fish. The little boy takes a long, black, eel-like fish and begins coating it with mud.

The fish on the grill are gigantic with their mud casings. I notice the three fish stacked together on the grill are all still alive. They are struggling against one another and crying, trying to get away. I feel awful.

"They'll cook to a delicious crisp," the mother explains to me over the fish cries. She even shows me a serving of fully cooked, dry fish. I can't stop them and I am crying just like the fish now.

"I'm never eating fish again," I say as I walk out of the tent and out of the barefoot village.