GENRE: Contemporary YA
In my dreams, there has always been water. I’ve dreamt of stormy days on the ocean when I couldn’t get my bearings or see the land, and I’ve dreamt of crystal water lapping at the edges of unnamed islands. I read once that water in dreams is a symbol for emotions. I think maybe my mother drowned in both.
One dream I have sneaks in like the rising tide, throwing me off balance and stirring up doubts. In this dream, I watch helplessly. It is night, which is true, but the rest is up for debate.
I watch as the wind whips long blonde hair around her face. Whitecaps glimmer in the lights from the pier. She doesn’t flinch as the cold hits her. She’s numb from feeling too much and she’s shut it all out. Her eyes are focused on an invisible horizon and she walks straight out. The waves slap at her, plastering her gauzy skirt to her legs. She’s in up to her chest, and as the water surges up, she breathes in sharply, involuntarily, because of the cold.
Her mind is clear at this moment. Nothing but the purity of the cold and the possibility of total peace. She bends her knees and lets the water hit her chin, takes some of the bitter saltiness into her mouth, then lets it run out, eyes still focused on the beyond. She doesn’t take a breath before going under, but exhales completely, and dissolves into the blackness without thinking about anything.
Not even me.