38 - The Deep, Dark Sea

I do not remember how this starts. A dream? Just a random thought? But it is disquieting. Not a nightmare but a gnawing, unsettling image. I try to explain.

It is night. The sky is black. I am in water. It is also black and surrounds me.

I am alone. All I can see is endless sky and endless water. Then I think:

 I know how to swim.

Maybe not well. Maybe not smoothly. But enough.

At first this comforts me. Perhaps this is a pool. I can almost hear the voices of people talking, laughing. They are on a deck, standing in the warm glow of strands of white, party lights. Surely, I can swim to the side of the pool? Join this gathering that is just beyond my sight?

I know, though, that this is not a pool. Maybe a lake? A big one. Maybe Michigan? Not the shallower, more gentle-shored Erie. But that is okay. They will send a coach. I have to make the swim myself, but the coach will row beside me, guide me to a safe landing point. It is doable.

But this is not a lake. It is the ocean. There will be no swim to the side. There will be no coach. All I can do is tread water and hope a ship goes by. And that they see me, rescue me, a small, frantic speck in the deep, dark sea. What are the chances?

How long can I keep moving?

DH Al listens carefully. I am not sure he catches everything in my rattle of words, but he picks up on my fervency. Finally, he speaks. Firmly. With conviction.

He says: But, Nance, you are buoyant.

I laugh, totally pleased.