Wednesday, October 22, 2008


They say there's nothing more boring than listening to the details of somebody else's dream. So I'm writing this mostly for myself.

Last night, I dreamt there was a storm coming. The news said the waves were really big out by the water. I wanted to see. I drove myself to the beach. There was nobody else there. In the middle of the beach, there was a raised pedestrian walkway, a little bridge like the kind you see over expressways. I couldn't figure out why it was there; there was nothing under it but sand. Still, I thought I could get a better look at the distant waves from on top. I walked up the steps and stood in the middle of it.

I watched the waves for a couple of minutes. They quickly moved closer and built in strength until one wave passed under me, then another. Finally, I was surrounded by water. The tide was higher than I'd ever seen it, and still rising. I couldn't get down or I knew I'd be pulled out to sea by the rip tide. I turned around to look back at the beach, and the closest land was about half a mile away. There was just me, standing on this bridge in the middle of the water in what was now a raging and violent storm.

When I turned back around, I saw a giant wave at least 100 feet high coming towards me. I knew my only hope was that it would break before it reached me and pass underneath the bridge. It did. But another followed, and then another, and as the tide rose, each one got a little closer before breaking. I started to worry that the bridge itself might collapse.

Finally, a wave broke just in front of the bridge, and I felt the bridge supports give way underneath me. Suddenly I was in the water, with the sensation of being pushed at high speed, my body being pummeled by the pressure. In the water all around me were torn and cracked pieces of metal from the now-demolished bridge. I thought I must be almost dead.

I must have blacked out, because the next thing I knew I was standing up, knee-deep in water and dragging my legs through the muck to get to land. The wave didn't kill me; it had picked me up and put me down that half mile inland, and now I was almost to safety. The water was so high that it now reached parts of the town, but I opened the door to a coffee shop and walked in, knowing I'd be safe there and that the storm would pass.

I'm not really sure what to make of this, except that it seems an obvious allegory for something currently going on in my life. I'm just not quite sure what. What storm am I caught up in? I must feel it, but I probably don't realize it. It must be something scary, but I must know that in the end, it's going to be all right. My job situation? Maybe. The falling value of my house? I wish it was something a little more interesting than that, but it might not be. I am not a drama queen, so the dramas I do have are always external and usually not very salacious. Unless there's something I've seriously repressed, which is possible too.

1 comment:

  1. I think dreams are fascinating, and I've never thought it boring to hear about dreams. Nightmares, fantasies, sexy, horrific, comforting, it's all a wild ride through the subconcious.
    I'm not good at interpreting other people's dreams, so I can't help you. However, you seem to have a pretty good grasp at what the situation is.
    I think I'll post about my dream from last night now, too.


About This Blog

This is increasingly not a blog about Alphabet City, New York. I used to live in the East Village and work on Avenue B, but I no longer do. Why don't I change the name if I'm writing about Japan and video games and guitars? Because New Yorkers are well-rounded people with varied interests, and mine have gone increasingly off the rails over the years. And I don't feel like changing the name. I do still write about New York City sometimes.


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