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Wednesday, December 7th, 2011

I had a dream about a beautiful river that flooded its banks.

It was evening. I was walking along the river. My boots made a shushing sound as I moved through the tall, soft grass along the bank. The night air felt warm and open and alive around me -- like I was slow dancing with the air as I walked. It was a perfectly clear night. The honeyed nebulae twirled above my head like a chandelier that you'd just spun with a fingertip.

The night exuded magic and boundless possibility.

I looked across the river to the other side and sitting on the bank was a white Bengal tiger. It was licking its chops, silently observing, tail switching a bit, waiting... vaguely menacing.

That's when the feeling in the air began to shift from wonder and beauty to lawless disaster.

I noticed that the ground had changed beneath my feet. What had once been a well-worn dirt path was now a muddy wash, slowly filled with water. The river was steadily rising past its banks.

I hurried to the house by the river. I didn’t live there, I was just a visitor. I walked inside and went to tell the son and the old man (his father) what was happening. A strange occurrence. Was this normal? They both ignored me, refusing to listen. The old man looked annoyed when he turned around and hobbled upstairs saying, “Ehh... I’m going to take a nap.”

I looked out the windows of the first floor, alarmed at what I saw. The surrounding fields were glassy in the starlight, already filling with water.

I followed the old man upstairs saying “Look out the window! Any window!” He refused to do it. Refused to believe.

I ran downstairs, gathering my backpack and some books I’d brought inside as I went. I found the old man’s son and said, “This is real. What are you going to do?” He just looked down, spread butter on his toast, and murmured something I couldn’t understand.

I decided to gather my things and get the hell out of there. The water was moving faster now – I could feel it. I looked out the window, quickly. It was nearly as high as the front porch.

Out in the front yard, wading through thigh-deep water, were 2 men - strangers – one with a rifle, the other holding a two by four. They looked hungry for something that would never satisfy them… ready to take advantage of the situation. I pointed them out to the old man’s son. He ignored me again, fiddling with something in his hand… a twig or maybe a paperclip.

Water was entering the first floor now… spilling through the windows.

I ran to my truck, found the handgun that I had hidden behind the seat, started the engine and drove up toward the main road through a muddy wash.

As I turned the bend, the house began to break apart and float into different directions.

Posted By John Common at: 4:12 pm

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Wednesday, December 7th, 2011

I had a dream about a beautiful river that flooded its banks.

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