[this is excerpted from my dream journal, posting from december 8, 2004 - morning around 7:30am]
onboard ship w/ cut hand, open wound, encroaching storm
pain mounting. feeling pressure to do something. why i
waited, i don’t know. i now have the gauze, the salve or oil
for what’s the word DRESSING my hand. the injury is in my
palm. in the palm of my hand.
back to the ship, seeing the sense of panic in my partner’s face, he the normally very cool and collected shipmate.
now, now is the time we must go, it’s coming, it has arrived.
what?
the hurricane, the gale winds, the storming sweeps of water that could collect
us in its ferociioius arms and carry us off to its depths.
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