There is something awesome about the sea. Although I have never ventured out onto it, I understand when sailors say it beckons them. Throughout my childhood, I would dig deep into the sand. By throwing a heavy towel over it, I would hide myself away from the world. The droning sound of crashing waves muffled out the cacophony of anxieties, expectations, and responsibilities. There, in that makeshift emotional grave, I would flee the coils of the real world, and embrace the comforting realm of daydreams. When adulthood arrived, the covered pits in the sand became too small to hold my body and imagination. Instead, they were replaced by late nights lounging on dark balconies beyond the tides' reach, but still in earshot of the pounding surf. With the veil of those childhood beach towels long discarded from my view, I basked in sights as well as sounds: the dying stars above, glowing lights of night life in the distance, bouncing points of flashlights moving along the dark beaches, and the near endless stretches of blackness punctuated constantly by the white crests of passing waves. With a wall of glass to deafen the sounds of TVs and voices from within the room behind me, and the several stories of floors below me to keep out the handful of adventurous souls walking the beach at night, I would, just as in those moments as a child, lose myself in daydreams.
No wonder my most vivid dreams involve the sea.
(Two paintings from the Spanish painter, Joaquin Sorolla. The composition of this particular one contrasts sharply with the rest of the post. I shared the second one, because I love the way the girl in the red jacket stands out in an already beautiful scene.)
This last week I had two vivid dreams, both of which took place on a beach. Neither of them ended well. And I am still left wondering about their meanings.
The earlier of the two began with myself and a half dozen other family members and friends on a bright, broad beach at the edge of a gentle surf. We were having fun. Then we decided to move down the coastline. And that was when things changed. The sky darkened. The beach narrowed. Dunes to our right gave way to a tall sea wall that seemed to loom over our heads, cutting us off from the security of the mainland. The ocean to our left darkened. The further on we walked, the larger the waves rose. In the dream, I looked away, hoping by doing so, I could avoid the impending threat. For the moment, it worked. We moved forward. Then we came to a point where the strip of beach we were standing on was immersed in knee deep water, and waves now came in from the direction we were heading. Now hemmed in on three sides, I could sense our way out closing up with more waves.
Looking down the beach, I noticed the water was foaming and moving like in those warning videos for riptides. Up to that point, a will inside me argued we could make it by moving forward. But now, with this new experience, I knew we had to turn around. But I also understood such a feat would require my facing the ocean before retreating. That frightened me. With some effort, and while calling out to my family and friends, I turned about. That is when I noticed her. She was a young girl, maybe seven or eight years old, and she was further in the ocean than the others. She was caught in the shadow of an incoming wave; I was caught in the moment of an important decision. Then the sea began pulling on me. I called out for someone to save the girl. No one moved. I hesitated. The waves rose higher. The sky grew darker. The water at my feet continued to churn.
I walked toward the little girl who was disappearing into the sea. The world went black. I woke up.
The second one began on a beach of hard sand. As I looked down the beach, vast dunes stretched away into deep shadows to my right, and a rising tide began moving in from my right. The sky above emitted an eerie glow, but I sensed it was some sort of strange dusk. before me was a brown tent-like structure, hard and bumpy like the half shell of a walnut. A warm glow invited me to rest inside of it. But two things made me hesitate. The oncoming tide began licking the slightly elevated sand that stood between it and the sea. And beyond the structure was a group of people walking towards me. I could feel they were intent on occupying that place. My hesitation arose from an idea that the tent might protect me from the rising sea. But I also did not want to confront the group of people. For a moment, I was torn. But then I decided to retreat, letting them take the risk of residing in that dwelling. Sure enough, just as I started to move away, I could see the water wash over the tent. It eventually disappeared. I felt vindicated.
And a little smug, which may explain what happened next.
Turning around, I began walking up the beach. Soon enough, I came upon another structure. This was much larger and broader than the first. Its sides were also smoother. It rose out of the beach like those beautiful rounded rock formations found in canyons. That made me believe it was solid. Rounding it on the side away from the ocean, I found an opening that glowed as if lit by candles. It led to a deep cavern of smooth, curving walls that seemed to have been carved out by careful hands--just the kind of place to hide myself away from the rising tide. Except, it dawned on me that it was not tall enough to hold. And for a moment, I considered digging into with my own hands. However, I soon realized that what I thought was a rock formation, was in fact made of shifting sand. The cavern was under too much sand for me to attempt digging further into it. So, instead, I decided it was safer to dig above it, closer to the top of this sandy formation. With a sense of confidence, I began to climb further up the wall of sand, to what I thought would be a safer place.
I was wrong. As soon as I put my hand into the sand, the latter shifted. It began to cascade down, all around me. There was not enough time to move back. My legs were already stuck. For a brief moment, I remained still, believing the sand would stop moving, and then I could gain a few minutes to think of a better way, or to call for help. Alas, I was not that fortunate. The sand moved quickly. Soon it piled above my head. Yet, I was lucky enough that a bubble of some sort kept the sand from entombing my head completely, and my left arm found a way to remain free just above my head, near the only opening to the outside world.
Then everything stopped. From my chest down, I was stuck. Any further attempt to move that part of my body caused more sand to move towards my head. In addition, my right hand, while above my head, was immobile. The left arm was all I had to save me. The thought occurred that as long as it remained near that hole, somewhat visible, there was a hope of being found. Another thought popped into my mind. My youngest daughter was hanging out somewhere nearby. Something inside of me truly believed that she had the strength to lift me out and rescue me. All she needed to do was see my hand. So, while yelling for her, I started to move my left hand about. That is when I felt the bubble of air around my head begin to close in further. Frightened, I stopped. That is when the opening near my left hand grew smaller. Desperate, I struggled to make that opening larger. Sand caved in further. My daughter drew closer--I could sense it. I screamed. The hole shrunk more, and with it the light. Briefly, I caught sight of my daughter's hand digging around what was left of the only opening that connected me to safety.
In the end, the hole had closed up, my left hand could no longer move, and sand piled up against my face. I felt hopelessness suffocate me. The world went to black.
Then I woke up.
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