I was sitting comfortably, on the floor, of the ocean. As I looked up I saw the shadows of sea life float by-- sharks and schools of little clown fish and two great whales. I sighed and leaned back when I saw you swimming toward me and my heart leaped. You were reaching for me, coming down from above; I raised my arms and stood up, lifting myself from the ocean floor to rise and meet you in the cool water. We were held tightly by the ocean and cradled each other. I'll never forget the feeling of your arms around me.
It was time to come up for air. But as I tried to swim upward, we seemed to only fall. I thought you were pushing me down, and wondered if that was your intention. Whichever direction I chose felt like a struggle. Perhaps you preferred to live on the ocean floor. Perhaps you were injured and needed me to be strong enough for the both of us to rise to the surface. Or perhaps it wasn't you at all, but the tide against which I struggled; and I struggled, until I ran out of air. And as I died, all I felt was immense love, and gratitude that you held me and never let go.
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