Starting off, we muck around in thigh-high black rubber boots down to the put-in. It's me and three sisters. Well, maybe they're just 3 friends. Can't tell [Charmed].
The sea is, the sea is, thick and dark. We can't see anything, not that'd we'd be able to see anything this late at night. We put down some inner tubes and lie on them, paddling around outside of the sound, out to the sea. Daylight comes. It's bright on the sea, we're far from land.
We're waiting, we're just waiting. Mom is going to come. High waves start and we see the first of two giant rubber boats float by. It's shaped like a shoe, with an open top. It's all of a piece, which, thinking about it, will really protect from water. There are two aisles divided by a center rail. It seats maybe 10 people, and is being piloted by a man cycling and steering. we shout, 'hello', but we still think they're rude for making such a huge wave. We ride out their wake and keep waiting.
Another shoe floats by. It gets dark again and we paddle back to the inlet. Finally, Mom swoops down in her little plane. She grabs us all up somehow, except that halfway to the plane, I can't take it. I drop back into the water. Mom is younger, slimmer, more gutsy. She screams down at me to not be chicken, to take the risk. "It's safe", she yells. And I get it, she is younger, I am younger. we're both different people. Outwardly more beautiful, inwardly she's better and I am the same [Adventures of the Ya-Ya]. I can't take it, I'm afraid of flying and piloting
I wade back to the house. She swoops over and over with my sisters/friends. And yeah, one is as hot as that Holly Marie Combs.
My real dad comes upstairs to sit with me, tall, bald and goofy. He rubs his sockfeet. It's dark, I'm sleeping in the boathouse room. The room is split by a staircase in the middle that hits where the roof peaks. It's white inside, with broad windows at the front, and porthole windows at the sides. It's decorated in a nautical motif.
Dad talks to me. I lie in bed. I am so sleepy, I can't move. They're talking to me about R. They want us to get married. "It's been long enough" Dad says. "You're disrespecting yourself by waiting". I try to explain what's real here, what's the truth. They're not listening [Gilmour Girls]. I think I've done just fine for myself. I try to wake up and tell him that. I can see the faint outline of the room; there's a line of light bleeding up from downstairs.
Mom whispers at the door, "Sarah, Sarah". I try to answer her. I love her, even though she's wrong. "Sarah, Sarah" she whispers again. I look over at R asleep beside me. Can he hear me answer back? "Yes?" I try. It's so faint. I can't move. It's raining.
I can hear in my head Aretha Franklin, "Bus, dear" she sings. "Us, dear". I can't stand it, the lying here, not being able to move. Am I answering? Aretha says, "Wakeup. Makeup".
I can move my head. Cars hiss by outside. They say, "Ssssssssarah".
[Dream from Tuesday, September 3, 2002.]
Mom's only gonna let me stay in for half an hour. Well, whatever. She's up there on her little rock, her little slab of cement with her aging friends. She's reigning over us, acting like such a parent. Really, the standards aren't the same--how can she tell me that I have to go on, when she's been out since 10 AM? They don't trust me. Everything's all washed out and bright here anyway. I can go in and eat some potato chips.
Well, the way I figure it is I've been in the water for an hour already. That's what's really stupid. I've already been out for a long time. But, I've had a little fun and if she's gonna treat me like a baby, I don't want any part of it. I'm not hanging around for this. I'm pissed off and I'm going in. I don't give a damn. There, I cussed, too.
I'm feeling a little pink, anyway, to tell the truth. My shoulders are shiny and rose-colored...no wait, that's red. Holy shit, that's really red. Oh, my god. Can I get inside fast enough? I don't want anything else to touch my skin. It's red like blood and I can feel pain rising in it. This is so dark, this is sun poisoning.
How did she know? Whatever. I'm not telling her. I'm just going to sit in my room, my only quiet place, and wait to see what happens. My skin already burns, though.
[Actually, my dream from Thursday, September 5, 2002.]
The driveway out front, a gravel thing. Well, we had a family picnic: Mom and Dad came, and most of the folks who live out this way. The gravel driveway flooded (or we flooded it) from the recent rains. They were torrents, reaching terminal velocity somewhere above us, dumping their loads and running off before we could catch them.
But, it was a good benefit to end up with a lazy river, and not have to pay the $37 fee to get in at Emerald Point.
Plus, it was at our house, so we could float out front, under rising dusk, chlorine-free. We were just there, floating. The air had cooled to a reasonable temperature. We were looking forward, in an hour or so, to floating out among the stars, seeing them through the natural screen of oak arms, wondering how Frank Lloyd Wright went so wrong and severe. But, we weren't really thinking of him. We were busy getting hungry enough for hot dogs.
There on the inner tube, I watch the sky, a Maxfield Parrish sunset, floating along. I take flight, I'm rising above it all, reaching towards some lower limbs of a tulip poplar. It's great to be up so high, floating. Is it water that takes me up?
Below me, the ground is growing distant, and the water underneath me begins to sting my toes. It's forcing me up, I realize. It's hurting me. I can look down and see bare earth below, soggy gravel. There is no lazy river. It's become a hurtling spray, bombed out of its banks.
We are being bombed. We rise 10 feet or so, no blood so far. But, the water is gone into steam. Of course, the steam can't hold, so when the blast dies, we fall back to earth. We land in mud.
I look around for Mom and Dad, and find them. They are worried, of course. I decide to relax about what is happening. We wade uphill in the mud, towards a neighobor's house. I remember that Dr. C lives nearby, and want to go to him to ask him what's happening.
We make it to his dry hill, where once there was, too, lazy river. He's out front. The day has come back, it's late morning, bright and sunny. He calms us down. We consider hunting deer to eat for the noon meal.