Riverboat Swings

I was with a group of friends and we were running away from some people. Desperate, we decided to climb out the window and hide on the ledge outside, even though we were on a high storey far above ground. The large window had layers of locked glass and screens that we hurriedly undid before finally stepping out onto what was actually a narrow balcony, rather than the thin ledge we were expecting. There were some leftover empty bottles—perhaps beer bottles—and a thin porch swing that could hold two. “It looks like a lot of people actually come out here,” I remarked, stepping out the window and over an empty bottle.

Then my friend and I were sitting in the porch swing while our other friends sat in another swing across from us. Suddenly, the building began to move, pulling away from the shore—and I realized we weren’t in a building after all, but on a large cruise ship or riverboat. We were sitting, swinging outside of it, perilously but with great fun and laughter, my arms hooked tightly into the ropes of the swing. We lurched as the boat turned, and I was flung forward in the swing, staring down into the waters from above, nearly dropping my stuffed bunny Jellybean into the dirty waters (I was suddenly holding on to her). I was very afraid that I would drop her and lose her forever, but my friend next to me reassured me. I also figured that Jellybean would float to the top anyways, and I could retrieve her.

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Swings in the Sea

I was with my tour group from Berlin, and we were by the sea – the ocean was a crystal pale blue with easy, gentle waves.  Our tour guide […] gave us a black plastic washing basin – it looked like a large pail, like something you would wash your dog in – it was for us to sit in, like a small boat.  But no one else could sit in it, because the waves at the edge of the beach kept pulling it away from under them as soon as they tried to sit in it.  Somehow, I was the only one with the skill to get into the makeshift boat.

So I floated out to sea, with my bottom sunk into the washing basin, and my limbs sticking out the top, trailing in the water.

Floating out in the middle of the sea, I saw a giant swing set erected in the ocean – the beach was still visible on the distant horizon.  The great swing set rose out of the sea, high and tall like towers – it was pure white, the top of it nearly to the sky, with the swing seats dangling on great long strings – the seats themselves just barely skimmed the surface of the waves.

There were a bunch of swimmers swimming around the swing set and swinging on the swings.  I really wanted to go swing.  But I think I realized my tour group was leaving soon.  I can’t remember if I actually went for a swing or not, but by the time I floated back to shore in my bucket, my group had already left and the beach was empty.  So I rushed back to the grungy hostel where I found them again.

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Suicide Hall

I was here in college – but it looked nothing like Berkeley.  Instead, it was a large, convoluted wooden building through which many students including myself wandered.  I was with my roommate and her friends, but then I left them to join my old friends from high school – I was so happy to see them again. […]

I remember wandering into the Suicide Hall where numerous students have killed themselves over the years and their bodies [lay] still upon the floor.  But the bodies were strange in that they were petrified in their final, struggling moments so that they seemed like grotesquely frozen statues.  They were of an odd, brownish-yellow color and the blood which spurted frozen from their bodies was like [cheese].  Others were also wandering through this Suicide Hall laughing and joking – perhaps they were going to kill themselves.  But the site repelled me and I walked from the room.

[…]

[…] Outside the windows I remember seeing a gigantic and elaborate swing set towering into the sky filled with students swinging and laughing and playing. […]

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