In the Murky Green

I had a snake dream again.
Not the serpant creeping between my sheets, wrapping around my ankle and pulling me off the edge dream. 
Not the wide-mouth, fangs in my face dream.
Not the dream where I had to beat it to death with a baseball bat.

This dream was in the water. It might have been a river. I got the feel that it was a river. A pipeline, a metal pipeline ran along the bottom, transporting oil or gas or maybe clean water to the masses. I was down there, looking at it, making sure it was carrying along alright.

Or maybe I wasn't there at all. Nobody seemed to notice me in the murky green. Sunbeams cut through the water, illuminating certain things I think I was meant to see, but not to touch. The ever-present worsh worsh of the rushing water throbbed in my ears.

That man plunged in. I noticed his glow right away. He was there to do a job. He was confident in his movements. He had done this many times before.

I don't think he could see the snakes cozied up against the pipeline. I hollered to him to watch out! But my voice did not come. Because, it was true. I wasn't really there.

The snakes reacted. The big, yellow one, as long as a train and as fat as a tree lunged itself at that man. He was quick. With one hand, he reached out and scooped the head, bigger than a basketball, into his hand and tucked it up under his arm. When the big, red one, just as impressive as the one before, tried to strike, that man got him too.

The thrashing was the scariest part. I woke with the image in my head of the three of them curling around each other, tossing the water about in the midst of a cloud of air bubbles. He tried to call out to me, but his voice never came. Because it was true. I wasn't really there.