I am almost asleep when a thunderclap wakes me. Right on, weatherman, I think, recalling the forecast on TV. I lie there, waiting in the dark for the rain’s soothing rhythm to lull me back into the depths. Yet it is not the sound of rain that comes, but water lapping, as if on a shore. I sit upright, and when I open my eyes I see that, though I am still in bed, my room and its four walls has been replaced by a boundless sea, stretching out in all directions. A cool western breeze gently rocks me upon shallow waves that have no beginning and no end. Luna smiles down upon me, Her bright face so large it seems that I could reach out and touch Her. The water wraps around my ankles and washes up over my legs. Sinking into the inky blackness, I am overcome by fear. The sheets shackle me to the bed under their weight. When the sea reaches my chest I shout, hoping that someone might hear my struggle and rescue me. It is then that I see a figure to my left, rising up out of the water. It is a familiar sight to me, a memory from long ago, with pale cheeks and staring eyes. “Come with me,” she says, “It was not as bad a death as you imagine. Just breathe.” When she offers her hand to me - a hand as pale as her face, tipped with nails as black and glassy as the sea - my heart pounds in my chest. It is so tempting. So, so very tempting. I know that there are others I will see again if I go with her. Some I have only heard about in stories passed down through the years. A strange sensation washes over me then, and the scene changes. Not in appearance, but in perception, and I know that this is a dream, the same dream I have had many times before. I turn my gaze away from the figure, and let go of its hand. The waters, neck high, recede at my command, and I will an image into my mind from long ago. I cast her memory not upon the specter haunting the waters around me, but upon the moon above, into the heaven where she belongs. This world begins to fade into a bright light as I look up to see her there, suspended among the stars. The bed presses against my back. A thunderclap wakes me. The sheets are wet, every inch of my body damp. The lapping of the sea is gone, replaced by the steady, soothing rhythm of rain pelting my bedroom window.
