I’ve been dreaming about waves a lot recently. After moving to a beach home and getting used to falling asleep to the sound of waves, I suppose it is only natural that said sounds may occasionally invade my dream-space.

There is something very powerful about the sea. Francoise LeGrande once said:

“Confronting a storm is like fighting God. All the powers in the universe seem to be against you and, in an extraordinary way, your irrelevance is at the same time both humbling and exalting.”

If you swim among even moderately sized waves, it is easy to see the sheer force of the ocean. The way the water moves collectively picking up and crashing down all in it’s way is mesmerising.

In my dreams, I am rarely in the water, usually I am above either hovering or on a high boardwalk, overlooking 60 ft waves. Sometimes I am against a wall on shore, when the waves grow out of nowhere on a clear day. There is always a sense of impending danger.

I have no doubt the near-drowning experience that led to me write The South Gut also had an impact on these dreams.

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