Julia opened one eye, the other followed. She turned the bedside light on. The filament in the large, glass light bulb glowed. She picked up her dream book. Her eyes closed, then opened again. Her hand moved quickly. She was still in the place of her dream, seeing the depths of the canal, twenty, thirty, sixty feet underwater. Two girls waved at her from a large, bulging porthole, behind the fire stairs leading to the dark bottom of the lagoon. Then flowery plants, a couple hugging, boys and girls dancing through a square, metal porthole, to no sound.
When she was done, she laid the dream book on the floor, the pen inside, and turned the light off.