2002-06-15 - 4:08 p.m.

Last night I dreamt that I lived with my family in Seoul, and that my Korean mother had purchased a bucket full of live oysters. It was a special occasion.

I was very excited�oysters were my favorite meal.

I had a pretty friend, and we were spending the day together. My mother invited her to stay for dinner.

Just as my mother was about to prepare the oysters, I noticed how beautiful one of them was, and I leaned in for a closer look.

It began to sing. It was dying. I was going to pour some water on it, but I then remembered that oysters lived in salt water, and that pouring tap water on it would probably make things worse.

I was going to attempt makeshift seawater, but as I didn't know the proper salt to water ratio, I asked the oyster what it wanted me to do.

It told me that its name was Kenny, and that it wanted to be brought back to the sea.

Expecting a flat rejection, I asked my mother if I could return Kenny to his briny habitat. I was fully prepared to defy her orders and smuggle Kenny away from harm, but to my surprise she told me to hurry up and bring Kenny back where he belonged. She, like myself, had never seen a singing or talking oyster before, and knew that such a singularity did not belong on the dinner table.

My friend and I jumped into my SUV and we drove off towards the coastal city of Inch'on. We rode as fast as possible, and Kenny selflessly sang and talked to us the whole way, despite his declining health.

I was a little upset that I was going to miss out on dinner, but I was far more concerned for Kenny's welfare.

When we finally got to the beach, the rain was pounding the ocean-view high-rises and the tropical treetops were being violently shaken by the wind. I covered Kenny with my hands as the girl and I ran towards the shore at full speed.

But it was too late. Kenny had died in my hands.