don't you start this shit again

We were on a little paddleboat on the ocean and about 100 spaceships flew over head.  There was no mistaking what they were: something we had never seen before.  The skies looked ominous, we nervously obvserved.  The last one of them dove violently into the waves, and yes, you watched it penetrate the waters deep within.  It was horrible timing, because I had a new crush.  I think she was in the back of the paddleboat with us or I was following them as we were walking in a group along the pier and she was more to the front of the group and I was in the back of the group; all I remember about her is the initial feeling of infatuation in school and the government decided it had to look into what was the object in the water—what, by taking samples from the water?—while I was anxiously anticipating an explosion from the ocean and I walked back into the kitchen for this burly guy with long hair to tell me what happened; the news was on a dingy TV, suspended, but the kitchen kept shrinking and his bag of potato chips on the counter kept getting bigger and inside were more like giant colorful broken animal crackers and cookies; and the kitchen was like one of those dreamlike rooms where the square keeps getting smaller, and my dad walked through the interstice of the fridge and its outline, I was annoyed...this body, this body hanging over me...and pain is just an illusion