It was just my imagination

The lake is hypnotic. I've been here since 2005 and I can't stop looking at it. I wait for the new to wear off, but it doesn't. I go to the kitchen, intent on some task, and realize I'm standing at the door, staring outside. I sit down to watch television but wind up with my back to it, gazing out the window. I get up early so I can watch the sun rise and don't go to bed until I find the moon, shining off the water. Seasons and the weather conditions don't matter. Each one only adds to the magic. From minute to minute, the surface changes. Fog creates a surreal atmosphere. Viking ships with huge, square sails come into sight as the fog lifts. Dragons, with wings spread and necks stretched, soar over the water and break out of the fog. Fishing boats battle the wind and rain as they fight to stay upright, their sails soaked and battered. Young couples in love, dressed in turn of the 20th century costumes, row across the glassy surface to an island where they spread a plaid blanket, unload their split oak picnic baskets, and flirt outrageously but never step out of bounds. I'm 17 and fearless, skiing behind a chartreuse metal flake speed boat with a Chevy engine, daring the driver to go faster as I jump the wake and show off for my friends. I don't want to miss anything so I watch.