On the wharf again

 Aug 13, 2017

I had a dream where I was getting married, surrounded by my family. So many faces filled the room, but I could only recall a few, like Brad and Stella. The day was a whirlwind, and I found myself lost in a flurry of hugs. Amid the simple, semi-traditional ceremony, I was busy gathering medicine and offering up prayers.


Once the festivities wrapped up, I began sorting through some old belongings, clearing out the clutter. I stumbled upon pictures of my first husband and snapshots of my children in their younger days. As I prepared to do laundry, I made my way to the shared utility room.


To my surprise, the room was flooded, with water everywhere. It felt strangely normal; after all, we lived near the ocean, and the heat was intense. The water reached my calves but halted at the door, as if held back by an unseen barrier. I remarked that it felt like God was present, but Rob insisted it was something else causing the water to rise. I maintained it was divine.


Suddenly, a massive wave surged from outside, transforming the landscape into a sunny dock adorned with boats, as if stepping into another dimension. I urged Kaila and Conan to explore the scene, and they dashed off, both around eight or nine years old, reveling in the joy of the moment.


After a while, concern crept in, and I began calling them back in a panic. Kaila returned promptly, but Conan was nowhere to be found. Tears streamed down my face as I remembered that my son Conan had died. When Kaila was about to leave, I grabbed her back again and hugged her tightly, desperate to hold on.


The dock exuded tranquility, and though I felt no fear, a profound sadness washed over me at the thought of Conan's absence.


What a surreal dream.


The end.

Albany stock photo:


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