Dream III: Possibility's Debris

At the beach I stroll past a series of immense sperm whales locked in combat with giant squid arranged in a neat grid in the shallows like a field of cabbages, immobile, frozen in mid battle, each one a quarter of the way submerged. I look on indifferently since not one of them is yet ripe. I continue on my way and realize that this is no ordinary field, but one which has no end, that I am browsing the set of All Things. The tiny portion I currently inhabit is every oceanic battle in all its permutations, set aside and indexed like the loose frames of a million movies and smaller still the sector which only contains giant squids fighting sperm whales, and yet more minuscule the subset of fights where the squid has a sucker three down from the tip of its fourth tentacle in place on the whales left eye. Even so, this infinitesimal segment of a division is the size of universes clustered like the stars within galaxies. I see a highway overpass in the distance which spans the ocean and continues on into infinity past the horizon like a rainbow's ugly skeleton and I sit at the water's edge defeated, for there is nothing left to imagine.