i've been dreaming about oceans as well, oceans, water, and floods. several years ago, i dreamed that my house in new york flooded and the christians came with bows on their backs to hunt down the gays. they dragged away my friend chris, tying him up and throwing him in the bottom of their canoe, paddling out my window and around the fire escape to my neighbour's. they chanted scripture as i screamed christopher's name.
last year, i dreamed of floods that took my brothers. in one, our college campus flooded and i found them floating on a door, trying to drift down the mountains steep edges. another night, i dreamed that i was watching them play at the beach with a girl who had gauze wings like a fairy. i turned my back for a moment, because collin was burning things in the oven, baking my mother's pans with nothing on them until they turned black with smoke and heat, and when i looked back out toward my brothers, i saw a greedy wave rip them off the shore and out to sea. my father and i ran down to the beach in a panic, diving into the waves. i pulled the little girl out by her wings, but as we stood knee deep in the water, the ocean became a dark green rug. we knelt down and ran our fingers over it in lines like a farmer plowing every inch, feeling for a lump beneath the carpet, that lost penny, my brothers.
two nights ago, i dreamed that i was on the boardwalk at coney island, but the far end had broken away from the rest. i clung to the railings as wave after waves crashed down over the pier, crushing me to my knees and then surging back out with the tide. they towered over me. i looked back at the ferris wheel and roller coaster and hot dog stands in the distance and knew i couldn't make it back. i couldn't let go, but i couldn't hold on much longer. then the pier became a room around me, with circular glass windows like a submarine and i sank beneath the waves.
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