Monday, August 1, 2011


...and when I did sleep, I dreamt of a pool, a beautiful pool - black lanes of tile under aqua blue water, sparkling in the sunshine, stretching out a full olympic distance, wide and empty. Strings of triangular flags stretched above the lanes, moving gently in the nearly indiscernible breeze, begging, inviting me for a swim.

This was not the Y: short half length pool, crowded with other swimmers. This pool was perfect. I went to get my things and go swimming.

By the time I got back, the weather changed. The pool was indoors. It was cloudy. The breeze had picked up. I looked for a way to get into the pool. I had to go through a door. When I got in, the building was dark, the water no longer aqua, had taken on the darkness of the building and reflected the gray of the low light in the building.

The only way into the pool was from the diving board. I put my things down and went to the diving board. As I looked down, the water was stormy - this was not the pool I went to get my things to swim in. This was not the pool that invited me.

I looked around to get off the diving board; the only way off was back. I considered turning around and looked down at the pool. Now, farther down, I was standing on the high dive. The water was churning under me. I had considered jumping anyway, sucking up my fear and trusting that I would survive. Looking down, the water was far below me, rough, and farther now each time I blinked. I could jump, but it would be too far to survive the fall, and the water was now a river, rapids below me.

Panicked, I turned around again to walk back, afraid that I would fall as I backtracked, terrified to move, to choose, to do anything, knowing I could not stay where I was.

I woke up with a start, staring at the ceiling, the doorway, the darkness...thinking about the pool and my fear.

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