Tuesday, November 16, 2010

The Wall of Water

 I haven't had it for a while--perhaps there has finally been enough therapy between me and my repetitive nightmares to keep them away. I did have this one for a long time, and it was simple: I was walking along the beach and suddenly, to my left, rose up with no warning a wall of water, grey or green, as high as I could see. It always confused me that I suddenly lost view of the horizon. I yearned for it again, one more glimpse, and hoped I could swim through the wave to the other side even as I knew I was about to get it.

One last wish, for a view to the edge of the world.

The big wave. Lots of possible interpretations. Right now, everything that stands between me and my novel.  The wall of water has its attractions, too, though. How do I sort it all out?

Lately I have been watching videos of big wave surfing--in bed, in the dark, on an Ipad. The habit began while reading The Wave by Susan Casey, much of which portrays the life and extraordinary abilities of Laird Hamilton, the big wave surfer. (Here's the fun of the Ipad--read a few pages, flip over to YouTube and watch the exact ride just described in the book.) I finished the book, but the videos remain, a waking dream before sleep.

Here's Laird Hamilton, surfing my wave dream. He is a genius of the sea.


  1. I have had this exact dream many times--and not at all for a long time--and still I am curious about it. The Jungian therapist would steer you in a less literal direction and ask you how the wave is an aspect of yourself. Conflating these delicious surfer videos and the nightmare and the Jungian approach I find myself wondering how I would surf the wall/self were I ever able to decode it!

  2. That is so fun to think about--you doing it, I mean. I think I feel a project in this.