World's Longest P.S.

I'm writing again, writing away, and it's glorious. It's about believing in prose, in a way, believing in the imaginary world a novel presents, both while stepping into it, observing, and putting it in print, and while exploring it in reading.
There was this school book, quite dull, that I've been trying to force my way through lately. Novel, of course; but that's not the point, since the novel in question pretty much failed to arouse my interest most of the way through... but there was this part of it, following a writer, that really appealed to me. This writer, he's like, seen the best years of his life and has given up on writing fiction in order to land a better paid job writing some famous family's chronicles. And he goes to see his old publisher, the fiction one, and what follows is the most extraordinary conversation on the topic of the novel.
Now we're starting to get closer to my point.
See, they talk about fiction, about the novel, how it represents something as old as mysterious as life itself. How writing fiction is to be naive, although at the same time you can fit into it shades of the most unpleasant reality. How the novel is the ultimate art form, the ultimate fantasy world, the ultimate amusement given to man, once acquainted to the phenomenon of reading. The phenomenon of words.
It might have been this, it might have been something else, but it doesn't matter. As long as it fuels my writing it might as well be anything.
P.S. I've got fever for the last two days, resulting in me having the most peculiar, and nasty dreams. Nightmares. Last night, or morning, or whatever to call it, I had the most strange dream in which I entered a very, very old and small house, hanging from the cliff of a mountain, reaching out over the wild and untamed sea. And in that house, there were two, just as old, creaking doors, out of which the right one swung open as I approached. Inside was a hatch in the floor, and shelves all over the room containing various diving equipment... I got into a diving suit and the hatch sort of, took off, lowering us down towards the surface of the sea, being torn by the heavy winds on our way down. I don't know how it happened, but suddenly, we were thousands, and I mean thousands, of meters down in the sea, and everything was so dark, so incredibly, unbelievably dark. Below me, in a sort of, research station, my diving companion (who took the face of my old high school friend) was tearing through the remains of a dark ship, a sunken ship, a room in it, that is. And she handed me two pairs of shoes, a pair of black ones, and a pair of purple ones. Feeling cold, and a bit intimidated by the dark, I signalled that I wanted to go up, and she just waved at me, impatiently, suggesting she'd stay behind for a while, but that I could go on up if I wanted to. I looked out the windows, into the depths, into the massive, enormous wall of water separating me from the safety of the land above. And I saw something move.
Something larger than what is even perceivable by man, was moving past the station, with incredible speed and agility for its size. As it got closer, I realized what it was, an underwater monster, like an eel, gigantic, and hunting, and it had spotted me.
Desperately I tried to tell my companion about it, and I think I actually did, that in some way we could talk to eachother, even though we were wearing these diving suits and barely being able to breathe by the pressure and weight by the water as it was. She told me back, that she knew about that, but as long as I timed my departure allright, it would be fine.
And so I went outside, left the station, trying to make myself invisible, even with my lantern steadily clutched in my hand. As the monster approached me, glowing eyes fixed on me, and enormous jaws opening, readying itself to swallow me, I knew it was the lantern that drew it closer, but if I threw it away I would never find my way back up to the surface, or down to the station, again, and I would drown out there anyway when my oxygen ran out. So I clung on to the lantern, even as the giant eel opened its jaws and I was absorbed by the foul darkness inside the creature's mouth.
Over.
It was over.
But wait.
Wasn't there a streak of light somewhere ahead of me?
I tried to breathe calmly, saving my precious oxygen reserves. In my panic, my body and its survival instincts seemed to have acted while my mind had blocked down. I was hanging inside the creature, one hand grabbing some sort of unidentifiable part of it that was dangling on the inside of its, what to call it, cheeks, or whatever. And the light ahead of me was nothing else than the light of the station, vaguely sippering through the slowly opening jaws of the monster. It was about to swallow something else, and not knowing when another chance would come, I pushed off as hard as I could against the wall-like cheek, using all my power and energy to kick and swim my way closer to my exit point, the opening mouth.
I slipped out, just in time before the jaws shut close again, on some other victim of its hunting streak, but only for it to spot me escape.
It was far from over.
Bouncing and kicking my way downwards along its body, in a sort of Super Mario kind of way, I managed to make it dive after me, plunging downwards into the depths, closer to the station, saving me the long stretch I could never have gotten by myself.
Almost there.
I threw myself inside the hatch in the exact last minute, with the very last of my energy, my body screaming of pain and exhaustion as the adrenaline made my veins throb so badly I could hardly see my hand in front of me. The monster didn't give up, banging on the windows the hardest it could, and I knew we would have to get out before it smashed the glass.
Finally, she would listen to me, and somehow, this time, we were dragged upwards in the blink of an eye by rescue workers pulling us up.
This is the worst part.
Once up on dry land, panting of the exhaustion and of the panic, and of the gratefulness to have gotten out, I realize that she's not with me. That she is still down there, and out of some strange reason, so is my father, having replaced my spot down there with his own.
It takes them hours to pull them up.
I can't for the life of me understand what takes them so long this time, when they could pull me up so quickly...
I wait, wandering around the old creaking house, discovering an old and half rotten bathtub, along with the most wondrous little room, full of the most beautiful little pieces of rainbow-coloured furniture.
Finally, after a lot of anxiety and fear, they get them up, and they're both okay.
I wake up, sweating from fever and from the nightmare, and then fall asleep again almost right away, my fever making me drift in and out of shallow sleep. The dream goes on with me stating, I will never set my foot anywhere near an ocean ever again, not in my life. And one of the rescuers tells me, "Don't worry. There's another room." And this time, it's the left of the two doors. And as the door slams shut behind me, I see that it's exactly the same as the other room, in every little detail, and someone says, "Don't be sad all your things got messed up. We've managed to restore it all again for you to dive some more."
And the dream repeats.
Worst nightmare, ever, all categories. Laugh if you will.
DS.