Smoke Twenty Four

I was dreaming of our eventual reunion on Jeju-do. I was sitting at an outdoor bar with a group of friends, and you just appeared out of the sea mist, like an animated garbage god. Drawn in some sunless studio, no doubt. Your manhwa self wore a shade of pink I hadn’t associated with you before. Nice sneakers, too. These details sent to us in dreams to distract our attention from the real game happening downtown in someone else’s dream. Okay, okay. I was in someone else’s dream of our eventual reunion. That someone happened to be on Jeju-do at the time of the dream. You see the problem. The potential for misinformation. Yes. We might never have met at all. You might have trudged on past in your costume made from plastic bottles and other detritus from the sea. You might have laid waste to Jeju-do. But … Well, you know the rest. Tell me again anyway. Okay, okay. So it turns out you were actually on your way to a costume party at one of the beachfront hotels. Yes, with an an aquatic theme. Somehow you convinced me and my friends to come along. You were draping seaweed over our hair and shoulders, sticking small plastic straws behind our ears.

O hai, you were saying?