Dreaming of Water

by Abby on August 1, 2016

“Mama, sometimes I dream something that happens in real life.”

“Really?” I don’t tell him then, but this has happened to me, too. A room, a rug, a place—snippets of subconscious that come to life at a later date. A flicker of recognition, a feeling of déjà vu. Where have I seen this before? Oh, yeah. In a dream.

Just the other night I dreamed that a friend lent us her vacation house for the weekend. On the outside, a completely ordinary looking suburban home. In the back, however, a screened porch looked out onto a small beach, little waves lapping at a shore just inches away from the house in that skewed distance of dreams.

I dreamed—dream—of a house by the water, and here was a house by the water. Only you’d never know it. I never knew it. In my dream, I knew this person, even knew of the house, but it wasn’t until I was in it that I realized it was on the water. It was there the whole time, and I never knew how close it was. How close I was.

Days later, back in reality, it was a long, dreary Saturday. Summer days running together, nerves and patience running thin. Heavy air, dark moods, thunderclouds looming. Someone remembered hearing about a secret swimming spot. Should we go? Should we try?

Rain misted the windshield as we drove north, the car loaded with inflatable tubes. We followed the texted directions to the best of our ability. This exit? The next? Left? Into a cornfield? They must have meant right. Past a farm, down a winding lane. Is this a two-lane road? Was that thunder? Should we turn back? We’ve come this far.

Oh, look. There’s the parking lot. Yes, this is it. It’s stopped raining. Down this path. There’s the river! Look at that bridge! This is cool. I can’t believe we never knew about this. It’s so close. And we didn’t even realize.

The skies opened and the rain pelted down. The warm rain and the heavy air and the cold river combined to create an otherworldly mist. It surrounded us as we waded knee-deep into the leg-numbing water. It drifted past as we launched our tubes into the current. “Oh, well, we’re already wet, right?”

Tubing in the mist

“Mom, I call this place the Mystical Forest. We are explorers.”

We drifted downstream, past fallen logs and mossy banks, narrow tree trunks stalking towards the stormy sky. We got out only when we heard the rumble of thunder, taking cover under the open hatchback, gobbling pretzels and giggling.

When the downpour passed, we waded back in. Drifting, twisting, turning, tipping, then striding back upstream to do it again. Intrepid explorers. Seeking adventures, weathering the storms, living our dreams.

Tubing in the mist, 2

 

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{ 9 comments… read them below or add one }

Kathleen M. Basi August 1, 2016 at 9:15 pm

I….LOVE….this.

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Sarah August 1, 2016 at 9:45 pm

Thanks for telling a story where you weren’t sure if heading out was going to be worth the hassle and then it was. Sometimes living in a busy city we are so hesitant to fight traffic, or miss a scheduled nap. Good to remember sometimes the experience is worth that effort. Great pics!

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Stacy Brunner August 2, 2016 at 8:28 am

Love this! Gorgeous place.

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Lou Mello August 2, 2016 at 8:39 am

What a cool story, love it.

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Rena November 7, 2016 at 10:48 pm

That really caeturps the spirit of it. Thanks for posting.

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Abby August 2, 2016 at 9:49 am

Thank you, guys! My loyal readers :)

I have to constantly remind myself you can’t know what’s going to happen unless you try. And those times that are so worth it make up for the other times when it’s not.

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Suzanne Persaud August 2, 2016 at 11:41 am

What an evocative piece. And what a special bond between you and your son. This used to happen to me a lot when I was growing up, but I have lost my dreams as I have gotten older.

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