(1/2/10) for and against the ocean

(Entered into paper journal at 8:30 AM at Red Horse cafe in Brooklyn.)

Dream #1

I was in a car with my family. We had gotten finished with something -- possibly some kind of trip into the mountains. We were now driving back home. It was a sunny, cloudless day. We may have been driving along a field of tall, green grass and little flowers. I probably sat in the backseat, on the passenger side.

I thought to myself that I would like to take a walk after we got home. I didn't feel like I'd gotten enough exercise for the day.

But now we were driving alongside a cliff. I looked over the cliff. The ocean and a beach were down at the bottom. The beach may have been ten or twenty meters below. I thought the water was beautiful: a dark, lapis lazuli color, with thin waves lacing with foam at the gentle crests. I thought it would be terrrific to go for as swim. As we drove on, the cliff got taller and taller, so that the beach eventually seemed to be one or two hundred meters below.

I thought to myself that perhaps I shouldn't swim in the ocean, either because the ocean was too cold or because the water was contaminated somehow. I thought there must be something wrong with the water, since it didn't look like there were any people in it. But then I did start to see a few people here and there, wading in the water. I thought it might be nice, after all, to go swimming in the ocean.

I wondered how far I could swim out without being in danger of shark attacks. I could see, in my mind's eye, a band of ground under the ocean which sloped gently down and then sharply down after a short distance. I was pretty sure that staying in that band would keep me safe.

I thought that I possibly shouldn't go to the ocean, anyhow. I still had to go for a walk, to get some good exercise. If I went to the ocean, I'd have to get good exercise there, to justify my being there. But I had a feeling I wouldn't get good exercise there: I'd probably just wade around and play in the water. But I still thought I would go into the ocean anyway. It seemed too beautiful to pass up.

But then I thought that once I got back from the ocean I'd have to wash my shorts. I imagined my knee-length khaki shorts. I thought, Well, they'd just be wet once I got back. I could just throw them into the dryer. But for some reason I thought the salt from the ocean water would catch fire in the dryer. I'd have to wash my shorts before putting them in the dryer, to get the salt out. This seemed terribly inconvenient, and a good reason for not going into the ocean.