I’m working on a piece about gay marriage and the coming Anglican schism, but until that’s done. . . .
Last night I dreamed I was swimming in the ocean, parallel to the shore, for miles. I don’t know where I was supposed to be, but it was like a big, happy carnival–lots of people (but not too many!) on the beach, in the water, in boats, in big air balloons, you name it. Music in the air, a perfect sunny day, the best feeling you could ever imagine in a dream. There were only light waves, no dangerous currents, and no sharks (although I do have terrifying shark dreams from time to time).
I woke up thinking how wonderful it would be to swim like that in the ocean–no danger, no fear. In real life I do NOT swim in the ocean because there are all kinds of wicked dangerous things in there. I don’t like the idea of my legs hanging down where big-tooth critters are swimmin’ around. The ocean makes me disconcertingly aware of exactly where my real place in the food chain is, and I don’t like it one bit.
I then thought, well, I could swim in the Dead Sea. But strangely, that creeped me out even more. The Dead Sea, really a hypersaline lake, is so heavy with salt that nothing can live in it. Nothing whatsoever. It’s just a hole in the earth filled with moveless, super-salty water (about 10 times the saline concentration of other oceans). That, to me, is creepy as hell–even creepier than invisible riptides and lurking sharks.