Something fishy this way comes

Last night I had the strangest dream. I have never been to China and I have most certainly not ever poled a raft down the Yellow River. That is the context of the dream. It was so lucid. The colors and the sounds of the river and the smell of rice and fish cooking on a bed of sand on the raft. The taste of lumps of rice and broth and fish and greens scooped up with a ladle-like spoon was so satisfiying and warming. Where can such a dream have come from? What remote dusty corner of my convoluted thought process can have been harboring such a journey? Where did the high red cliffs come from that accelerated the journey and swirled the raft around and around as it passed between them?
Will there ever be a time when I will be allowed full access to the library of my brain? There are so many mysteries there. I think of the library in "The Name of the Rose" another tedious book by Umberto Eco that I forced my way through. "Foucault's Pendulum" wasn't half bad but "Bardolino" was pure drudgery. That is what happens when you buy a book instead of getting it at the library. You feel morally obligated to finish the dreadful tome.
Today will be interesting as I have an understandable urge to make fish stock. First must come another trip to the grocery store, be still my beating heart, for there are things that I will need to make it. I have never made it before and it is something to anticipate. I will need fish and rice and leeks and marjoram. I have all of the other things that I will need. Maybe some cream for the inevitable herd of cats that will congregate on the porch will be in order.
It will be a pleasure to welcome such visitors. One thing I miss by living where I do. The landlord was very specific about no pets, especially cats. I have always had at least one cat and I would welcome the drooling devotion of a dog and the aloof companionship of a cat. I no longer miss human companionship but I do miss the petting and the purring. You give love to an animal and it gives it back. No conditions, no comments on how you could improve your life by changing -----, no snide remarks, and they never get telephone calls in the middle of the night. They also only dirty one dish and never a glass or silverware. A cat would be preferable as they don't have to be taken out for a walk so they can do a poop and then propel it halfway across the yard with a kick. A litterbox is preferable to a walk in the rain or snow and worrying about Rover's little brown footprints on the kitchen floor. Still there is the warm bond that seems to grow between Man and Dog, a dog trusts you implicitly but a cat merely seems to tolerate you, knowing that you will fail it at some time. Cats are a lot like human companionship.
Fish don't seem to make good pets. I will see if they make good stock. I look forward to putting the leftover fish frames and heads and tails into the rubbish barrel ouside. I can see a herd of cats poised on top of it when the landlord comes out to empty his rubbish. I have never really seen a conniption.