…the stuff that dreams are made of

  

Storm Clouds

 

I’ve had two reoccurring dreams for as long as I can remember.  The first involves watching the swell of a tsunami as it travels toward me, then stories above…a wall of grey-green water as high as I can see…I wake up just before being swallowed.  In the second, I can see funnel clouds forming and hear the deafening roar as a tornado forms in the distance and begins to move toward me…in the beginning the air is hot and sticky and turns violent, unrelenting within minutes…I wake up just before the tornado reaches me. 

The first I attribute to biological memory; my people are from the North Atlantic – fear and understanding of the power of the sea would be bred into us as surely as our round cheeks or pale skin.  I don’t understand where the second dream originates…this vivid image that’s been part of me forever.  

Until four months ago, my entire life was spent within walking distance of salt water – making it harder still to understand the feeling of home I have standing under an endless sky.  Maybe I’ve always known that this is where I belong, the power of this place ingrained as surely as the wrath of the ocean.  Today the air is hot and sticky and I’m watching the sky…

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2 Responses to …the stuff that dreams are made of

  1. Kathy Fitzgerald says:

    Hi Rhonda:

    OMG, I LOVED reading this. Cracked me up. You’re an amazing writer, please keep ’em coming!!

    Kath

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