I'm at some sort of gathering, like a camp or retreat. We're having a big meal and some beer, and then I think we're going to watch a movie projected on a big screen.

In between, I go snooping around in a body of water, looking to see what critters live there, and I see an octopus curled up in a hole. How exciting! I call somebody over to show them, they don't see him, so I reach down under the water and touch him, and he darts away into the depths.

There are more down there, and I manage to catch one, and show him around the party. He's different, sort of like a muppet, with big friendly eyes, and a bright red color. Everybody likes him.

But, I'm telling people, look in the cistern. There are many more in the cistern.

I don't think this is is the cistern to which I refer, but there is a sort of open barrel. I think it's the next day, and there is one octopus in there that I have visited several times, or maybe I put him in there. I am showing somebody what happens when I reach in and touch him. The first time, he flinches and darts away, as if awakened from sleep. The second time, not so much. Then he grabs my hand with several of his arms, feels me, and then grips onto my hand, in a way that could be construed as affectionate.

"I just want to know if he really knows who I am," I am telling somebody.

Slowly he rises, sticking his head out of the water, with two forward eyes looking directly at me, and speaks in English: "I know you."