In Colson Whitehead’s “Rules for Writers,” number five is “Keep a dream diary.”

Sometimes, if I am awakened by a dream, I turn on the light near the bed and grab a scrap piece of paper — usually one of those blow-in cards from a magazine I’m reading — and a pencil, and I write it down.

Last night I had a dream that my skating teacher and his wife had a baby, and they wanted me to take care of it. So, I took that newborn swimming, and it swam.

The dream is still vivid, especially the baby and the YMCA-like pool.

Ice, water. (What’s next, an evaporation dream?) What does it mean?