The Ocean

The Dream:

I am traveling on a coastal road with destination unknown. The clear blue waters are sparkling, and an array of color flashes like a beacon from the sandy bottom. Where it is deeper, the water is darker and colder, and regardless, I want to search for shells; small treasures to put on an dusty shelf in my bedroom. I can see a whale in the distance, surfing on a salty wave. Opening my hand, a wooden thimble has left an imprint, and as I peer closer, I can see a miniature narwhal figurine is hidden within it.

I often dream of the ocean. Fifteen years ago I visited California, and toured Disneyland, Universal Studious, and several beaches. In a remote area, I found some of the most beautiful shells I had ever seen, pearly swirls of purple, pink, and cream. Before that, my family lived outside San Jose for a while, and I remember getting side-swiped by a seal. Of course, I had already seen Jaws and was nearly paralyzed with fear, thinking it was a shark. Imagine my surprise when a furry creature surfaced and seemed to laugh at me. I am most homesick for Maine, for the lonely and empty harbors. The water smelled different and was cold, but I loved it dearly. Hunting through tide pools, I identified starfish, sea urchins, sponges, crabs, and an occasional seahorse or horseshoe crab. On a day trip in a boat, a humpback whale caused our ship to rock and pitch when it swam under. The whale was so close, I could even see the barnacles on its back.

I want to see the ocean again, but until then, I will have to be satisfied with my dreams. Maybe one day I will still have that New England home, where the ocean won't be so far away.