My friends G.R. and G.K. operate a wonderful antique store together. In my dream early this morning, their store was in a small house situated somewhere by a beach, facing east and the shore. There was some kind of climatic trouble brewing, which started a mumbling kind of commotion about packing up things and evacuating. G.K. was out of town. I was there in the store and I think my husband, Rob, was as well; we were checking in on things for G.K. while he was away. G.R. came in and I greeted him with a hug; I think this happened a couple different times. I learned that he and his wife, C., were either divorced or divorcing, and he was hanging around the store, not doing much, not wanting to let go of my hugs, and looking a little too obviously for attention. I noticed that he had lost a lot of weight and said so. He seemed pleased. G.R. didn't pack up much, only a few small items that were to be taken from the store. Rob and I left. The next day, Rob and I drove the long, straight, lonely road back to the shop. As we travelled, there seemed to be nothing but the road and I couldn't see the shore. We stopped and read a big sign in the middle of the road, part of a barricade of sorts, that had been posted by the National Guard, I think. There was a drawing of a little guy with a big gun and there was a threatening message about staying out of their way as they did their work (cleanup work?) and not trespassing. It was vague about what exactly constituted trespassing. We drove on anyhow, and the road was empty of other travellers or workers. Rob said aloud that a major flood had hit the area overnight, and all the houses were gone, had been washed away. Everything was level and smooth, as if nothiing had ever been there. We hadn't yet arrived at the place where the antiques house had stood. Rob and I were both stunned by the total devastation that had happened in so short a time. In my mind, I imagined all of the antiques being carried away by the waters. It was an awful thing, and yet, I had to laugh when I thought to myself of the great beachcombing there would be after the waters retreated--couches, chairs, curious old things--those instead of shells and driftwood! The water didn't look like water; it was aboslutely still and looked like darkness, or nothingness. There was no sound of water. We drove on farther, and soon we were at the spot where our friends' shop had been. And there it was still. I said to myself, 'Wow, it's here! But everything inside must either be ruined or washed away.' We parked the car and I walked around to the front of the house. Its windows and also the door I think was open and the house was dark, as if it had been through a storm. The water line was about two inches from the front entrance and was beginning to slowly recede, but it hadn't ever reached all the way up to the house. Everything else that had been there--the other houses and and structures--all were gone. The sky was solidly grey. The water looked flat and vacant. The storm had come silently and passively, and dumbly wiped away nearly everything. All was very dim and dull around us, but the house remained. I wondered to myself if that was because the G.'s had been paying tithing. Seems like at the end of the dream G.K. came back but now I can't remember that part.
2 Imported Comments:
This reminds me of Orson Sctt Card's story of what would happen if the Salt Lake flooded the SLC Temple. People would have to come and dive down to find the treasures that could be found around there. I think of the antiques treasures that could be found by diving after a flood hits. Perhaps this means you have to look for what treasures you can find for GR's sake even now. Or at worst what you are afraid to find as a result of the flood that is only symbolized by GR and Gk's store. My most discomfiting dreams often include my unarticulated worrries about the things life may somehow require me to do. FYI, if you don't know it the Orson Scott Card story can be found in "The Folk of the Fringe."
21/2/06 10:44 PM
Hmmmm. More food for thought . . . and a story to read. Thanks, Bev. I find it fascinating to pick apart dreams.
Your comment for some reason reminded me of a really crazy b-movie I saw years ago . . . I think it was called The Great Brine Shrimp That Ate Salt Lake. Spoiler: after terrorizing and destroying the city, the Godzilla-sized brine shrimp scaled the SL temple and was about to eat Moroni, when a giant seagull swooped down and snapped him up and that was the end of the giant brine shrimp.
24/2/06 10:49 PM