You wake up in a forest. The trees stretch far above your head, with the stars even farther. The moon is full and golden, shining down on the floor like a spotlight. The grass is soft, somehow more so than the dirt. When you look around a little more, gathering your bearings, you hear a light babbling sound up above. It’s gentle and calm, but broken by slaps and odd sounding giggles. Wait. That’s not normal. They sound almost manic and high. So, by some unspoken instinct, you decide to follow.

Walking slowly to the almost aquamarine water, you see something odd. It blends in and swirls dangerously. But its erratic movements seem to give it away. Your steps grow squishy when the dirt turns to mud, but it slides right off your feet. And you don’t feel it either. This is a dream. It must be. The moment that hits you, it splashes up to you, sprinkling water all over your face. It’s short, teal hair almost blends into its body, which is a paler teal. Dark stripes line the side of its face and arms like a wild fish or a tiger, and its teeth are just as sharp. Its ears and fingers are webbed. Its right eye shines a brilliant gold, while the other stays a dull-ish brown. And it’s tail, trailing off where the legs should be, curls and swirls in the water, seeming miles long and moving too much to focus.

“Hiya, shrimpy!” The eel-man coos, its voice winy. And then it clicks again. It’s Floyd.