Dreams

I had a strange dream last night.
I dreamed my fish needed his water changed, a common state of affairs in my busy household. So in my dream, I changed his water. But I didn't have any water treatment drops to add to his water, so I put in filtered water, hoping for the best.
Well, he apparently didn't like the filtered water. He kept jumping out of his water. My dad appeared in my dream, and picked him up off the floor and unceremoniously dumped him in his water, where the fish let out a bubbly burp of thanks, caught his water breath, and jumped out again.
Dad gave me a fish bowl with a very narrow mouth, which I put the fish into. It was hard getting him in, since the mouth was so narrow, and one of his fins got torn. But he was determined to live in cleaner water, and squeezed out of the bottle, giving me a dirty look as he gave his final heave and launched onto the floor.
Finally, in despair and admiration of his determination, I left for the pet store to find water treatment drops, leaving the impetuous fish in the care of my dad. When I got back, I cleaned his crystal vase (his usual home in reality), and filled it with water treated generously to remove heavy metals and everything beta fish don't like. Then I let him squeeze himself out of his bowl one last time, into his comfortable home.
As soon as he hit the water, he suddenly burst into a dissecting kit, with his body in the middle. My biology instructor was behind my shoulder, encouraging me to begin the dissection, saying that this had been the fish's design from the beginning: he wanted me to learn from his experience.