ello, jello

I dreamt we were in a submarine. Mom, dad and I were watching a movie about these famous chefs who were sinking in their own submarine. They shoved cook books under their doors to try to stop the torrential flow of water. My parents laughed. But my feet were wet. There’s nothing to worry about, they said. The alarms would be going off if something were really wrong. My mom opened the door to her bunk and a beaded rivulet slipped in. I imagined us choking on our last night of sleep. Then I woke up.