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Saturday, October 05, 2013

The Dream Factory: Floods

Sans Souci Bar, Sans Souci, Michigan

This past Thursday night I had a dream of flooding. I was jarred into memory of it by watching some early morning documentary on Hurricane Sandy.

It was a beautiful sunny day, and the sky was rich, deep blue. I and a friend were walking in some town on the water, maybe Sans Souci, but it resembled Sans Souci not a bit. It looked more like a combination of Venice and nice summer places on boardwalks and the standard movie-set-of-my-mind of Port Huron and a Dark City in the bright sunlight.

Large swells and waves came in and flooded through the streets. The water was warm and it did not seem to seriously impede us. If we were knocked down, we got right back up, wet but not injured. I looked at how high the water level was on the buildings, thinking of the water damage.
I cannot describe how refreshing yet intimidating was the water! It rolled in the sun under the vibrant blue, breaking white crests, then carpeting the shores with roiled conches of light, light green and white-clear sheets of water, curved like liquid flakes from a flint from the world's genesis...
We were inconvenienced, yet felt good.
If, we thought, we could only live in harmony with the waters and the waves, all the floods and aquifers of the world.

There was another dream about this riverside or seaside place. It had to do with my father's passing. Fortunately, this time we, the people of the dream, were not anticipating our own imminent demises, such as we did in that other one from the beginning of 2013.

I just remembered that other dream right now, just as I was starting the previous paragraph.

I have a whole dream history of water side villages, in high water and low, dry roads and flooded, reeds and marshes through which high water flows and floods the game room, causing the Monopoly games to float from the cabinets and go into the parlor.......

I remember the old rotary telephone upon a doily on a phone stand before the summer sun spilling in like buttermilk fire, and reeds and winds... there are reeds blowing in the wind where actually I know - I know for sure! - there is nothing but lake scum and trash...

How wonderful are dreams!


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