Pipeline

Red lanterns raised by the night's wind: adding stars to a sky that has billions.
Soft songs coming from the next bungalow: anodyne bass riffs and steel guitars. I am bungalow #100, it must be #99. Numbers get higher the closer you get to the ocean.

Light on one side, surf on the other. Water is never just on one side: if you travel enough, you'll eventually find it again. The sea it's always on both sides, it's just a matter of distance.
Maps can really help you visualize this, for maps are the first form of cubism.
To see better by wiping out a dimension.

A strange group parades in front of my bungalow: a dog and a cock.
Catwalk with no cats.
I have distant memories of a similar bunch: the cock should climb on the dog's back, to play a flute or something. They don't.
I've seen an octopus during my last diving session: it doesn't fit with the story I recall but it may be part of a new story I should create for them.

The lanterns are quickly loosing altitude: I should go fishing before their lights fade out.