A ferocious storm is wreaking havoc on a beautiful gem of an island on the glistening Caribbean Sea, at the rich golden light of the late afternoon. What had been forecast to be a routinely warm and pleasant day, across the island, has been exactly that.
Dreams are messages from our souls, clues from our subconscious, in reality our conscious, grappling with whatever is stirring deep in us at the time. Freud and Jung explored dreams as manifestations of our deepest desires and anxieties, often relating to repressed childhood memories or obsessions.
I raise my left foot to tip my toes in. Instantly, marionetted, I am yanked up, draped up, dragged up from above, suspended in time; floating, just grazing, never breaking, the aquamarine still. The uproarious laughter of an old Latin man surges up around me. I can’t see him but sense deeply, his knowing, the taunting in his sound. I’m horrified of being dunked into the gaping depths beneath my dangling feet.