How Most of the Dreams Go #12

First it's a fawn dog, and then it's a baby.
I'm helping him to swim in a warm pool,
the water is dark like slate-colored ink 
and edges are cement and so high 
that to sink would be easy and final.
I whisper to the dog (that is also the child), 
"Is it okay that I want you to be my 
best friend?" And the child nods. 
(And the dog nods.) In the end, 
sometimes he drowns. But sometimes 
we drown together.