Dream 112

Didn't dream of saints--lost or otherwise--instead there was the ocean, so much of it filling the streets, and I kept thinking of how I can hardly swim and how I should be drowning but I stayed on top of the crests; parking meters floated; bridges snapped; the sky was an eerie cloudless blue, and I wasn't fighting the surges, just waiting to be taken down by them, observing how surprised I was that I was calm, not dying, but calm; and when I finally woke--after everything had dried out and the edges of the earth were crisper--I stared out the slats of the blinds at the sun, a different sun, a later sun than yesterday's sun.