I dreamed that my best friend and I were at his shore house with both of his parents. They were alive, and young. A terrible storm was approaching, and we had been told to evacuate. We didnt listen. I was on the second floor and looked out the window and saw a towering tidal wave approaching the house. It was strangely beautiful, but terrifying. The wave hit the house with the force of an atomic bomb. We all swirled around the water, and lost each other. I took refuge miles away in the house of some hippies whom I didnt know. We were cold and wet and scared and hungry. Then my father came up the stairs – like he was in the 1960s – a Don Draper dad with a raincoat and a businessmans hat. He said, Dont worry, I brought you some Mexican food. And there it was in a couple of brown bags – enchiladas and burritos and tacos and yellow rice and refried beans. I went to hug him. I was so little that my arms only came up to his knees.
Posted on: Sat, 12 Jul 2014 13:33:49 +0000
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