When he was twenty-eight-year-old the man began to have a recurring nightmare. He was on the London Underground with his wife, a little before Christmas. Lunch at Simpsons on the Strand had been followed by shopping at Harrods and Selfridges. They carried big bags of gifts and tasteless tidbits wrapped in cellophane and colored ribbon. They were happy, not a care in the world. As the train trundled along the tunnel beneath the Thames, the wife said she could hear the sound of rushing water. “Don’t worry,” the man told her, “the train is watertight.” They sat quietly but the sound of turbulent waters grew. The train stopped and the lights flickered. The wife pointed to the floor of the train. A large hole had appeared beneath the siding doors, water was beginning to lap into the carriage. They had to stand on the seat to stay dry but the waters kept rising. The cold black water swirled in great eddies through the carriage and a green sea snake swam around them in the roiling current. The wife began to scream. The water covered the man’s face; the snake slithered into his mouth down his throat and settled quietly in his stomach.
"Drink and the Devil,"
The Tuxedo Archives: Vol. 2015
, Article 5.
Available at: https://scholar.dominican.edu/tuxedolit/vol2015/iss1/5