A couple nights ago, I had a dream that my family and I were off on a vacation. The farthest back I can remember was buying and packing up some essentials and snacks at a convenience . . . er, shack a few meters from the water. Then I noticed some commotion brewing. The buildup was quick. I was unusually drawn to what had caused several beachgoers' panic. I went down a few steps, stepping into (more) sand, aware that the direction I was headed was the source of everyone's hysteria.
Then there it was. As enormous as the 2004 Indian Ocean wave that devastated Africa. Somehow, the giant wave didn't have the momentum to match its size; it was rolling in dramatically slowly, almost like it had character, a personality. It didn't boast of its size, neither did it taunt (well, at least to me, it didn't). It just WAS.
For some reason, the setting changed a smidge. It was dusk, quickly getting darker. And the water seemed to have frozen in place. By this time, it looked to be close to midnight blue though it seemed to be glowing from within as well. Think Life of Pi, but in place of the plankton are several constellations.
I was in awe. I was scared . . . but not really. I knew I had to be afraid just as everyone else was, but the fear was tamped down by the overwhelming awe and wonder and curiosity. There's something more here, I thought.
Just then, I felt my mom desperately tug at my right arm. She was crying, saying in our dialect, "Let's go! What are you doing?" She said this repeatedly, constantly tugging at my arm to get me to move. I couldn't find it in me to tell her that I didn't want to go. Then the reality of the situation hit me.
This wave has only one place to go, and I am in its direct path. I will die.
But as I looked back at the constellation-bedazzled tsunami that seemed to hold me, I couldn't shake that desire to stay, no matter what was to happen to me. I think I managed to force out a faint "I want to stay," again in our dialect. She thought I was crazy but kept willing me to run with her.
I looked back at the strange wave, still frozen in place, and back at my mother and then back to the rest of my family waiting for me - fearing for my life as I should have. I forced my legs to move, to walk, to run.
I'm not quite sure if I gained approval from the wave for the permission that I didn't even ask. I'm not sure if my running was an act to pacify my mother or an act symbolic of obedience to my mission. I'm not sure if my dream means much else other than a handful of uncanny references.
One thing I am sure of, though . . . I knew the Wave, and the Wave knew me.
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