The Giant Boat

I am walking in some God-forsaken place, say Budapest. I am near the river at night. The boats are lit up. But there is one boat that is far too large. It barely fits on the narrow river. Inside, the boat is as bright as daytime. Children are sitting at long wooden tables, while old ladies spoon slop into the children's chipped bowls. This disgusts me, reminding me of my old schooldays, and I turn and began walking in the opposite direction of the boat. I am looking down at my feet, proud of myself for walking away, and soon I find myself in the boat. I sit down at one of the tables and a beautiful woman who looks like Candace is there with a man. She tells me that she does not love me. I don’t know her but I feel devastated, even though I know she is not Candace, and the man is just grinning at me, and then I want to kill them both. I begin to scream at them but my mouth is full of slop, but it's dry slop, my mouth is full of cornstarch, or yellow flour, and my imprecations come out as a puff of yellow.