The Waters

Dreamed of cities flooding. Buildings collapsed, people were chest deep not knowing where to go, so they didn't move. A helicopter thwapped overhead. A woman held her naked screaming infant out of the water.

A tall blonde man I know wore his backpack and looked calm. He walked his bike under the water. In the city where was something to walk on, it was mucky. Oprah was on the street with an entourage and cameras.

I watched from above. And then I was in the water with them. Then again, flying overhead, observing all of it. Most of the population was stunned into stillness. Some of the people were moving. Only a few were thinking and helping. I woke before the alarm and lay in bed for a half hour contemplating the dream.

When the alarm went off, the news call rang. A minute in, a news blip about the flooding going on in the world, and a 13 year old boy who died with his mother, because he insisted rescuers save his younger brother first. I had forgotten about hearing about the flooding. Laying there in my safe, warm bed, I couldn't recall where the flooding was. Complete towns being drowned like Atlantis. I wondered if I'd be as brave as a 13 year old boy. I wondered if I'd have strength to hold my infant up up out of the water for hours, watching it cry. I wondered if I'd have the strength to be calm.

Somewhere in the world there are people so stunned they are still. Some moving, some helping. Somewhere in the world there's a mother trying to keep an infant dry and warm and out of the water. There are people who are dying in panic and fear, or in quiet and calmly. All waiting for rescue. All waiting for emotional Mother Nature to cease the waters. All living chest deep in the stuff that "fiction" novels are made of.

A message for me to remember today, when you frown because your Tim's coffee line is long, or you're in overdraft, or you've been laid off, or your socks get wet from the snow... We've got it easy folks.