Last night I dreamed about the waves:
A likeminded group of friends stood together
as audience members of the sea,
spectators of the crashing, rolling waves.
Peace be still.
We were safe from them,
finally not surfing or thrashing or drowning,
but toweled off
and high and dry,
protected by an invincible glass hotel.
A tsunami came upon us, out of the calm sea.
The waves loomed high like a Japanese painting
but they never crashed the hotel,
they fell short,
like all monsters will do in dreams
when we finally face them.
As I watched the waves rise higher and higher
and fall, always short of hitting our transparent high rise,
my attention turned to my phone in my hand.
I gripped it and noticed it had no case on it,
and I thought “I have to protect my life line;
hide it so it doesn’t get wet.”
I looked for a safe place, and saw a chintzy cabinet.
“No, not safe enough,”
and so I went deeper into the house to hide the delicate electronic device,
and I realized,
“Hm, I don’t even need to go deeper–
the waves can’t get us here.
I can hold my heart in my hand
and know we are safe behind our plexiglass hotel walls.”
I’m just waving hello.
Don’t get lost in your own house, Navy
You’re safe where you are,
and you can always come back to the windows
and look at the waves.
Hell, you can go out and play in them,
but know you can come back inside
where your main means of communication will always stay dry
and safe even when you are outside and vulnerable.
It’s okay to leave your phone at the hotel sometimes.
For you will return to hold it again
and to stand with your people behind glass walls
that will never shatter.
The waves cannot get this close —
no matter how high
no matter how angry
no matter how wet
no matter how deep —
for monsters in dreams are like monsters in real life
all in our heads.
I dreamed my people,
and I were safe from the waves
in a plexiglass hotel.