I am standing on the end of a long pier, staring into the pacific ocean. The air is perfectly clear and the coastal mountains jut proudly into an endless blue sky. I pull the collar of my coat up to shield my neck from the late-autumn wind and glance left to see you standing about 3 feet away, hands in pockets, face to the sun.
We haven’t spoken in about 10 minutes but there isn’t much to say. You slowly turn to face me and smile gently at the sight of my wind-bitten nose and slightly confused expression. I can’t shake the feeling of déjà vu that keeps knocking the air from my lungs.
We have been here before. In another dream, one where we stood closer together and laughed brightly at the furious quarrels of ducks and geese in the water below. That memory of the future has faded but another has taken its place – one in which we fight and fuss and weep and still find ourselves on that pier, watching the sun rise and set over our days.
A beautiful dream to hold close on grey and blustering days when all our hopes are lost to anger, fear, and disorientation.