I had a vivid dream of surfboard fishing so I considered it an excursion, and decided to write about it.
I woke up, my heart was pounding in my chest, and all I could think of was that it was scary, diabolical. An ocean that was immense and unforgiving, terror in my soul, it reminded me of the tsunamis of Japan, and it was a monster, pure evil, with huge thrashing surf and whitewater to traverse as far as the eye could see. This ocean was far worse, it was deadly and wanted to kill, and that is what I saw; death.
When I was younger, death was all around, an X-gener, dark and lonely. I didn't have to go to war, the war was right here in my home, in my land, in my people. Courage marked my heart, but courage was my demise; no sooner that I turned to God, that death became my partner. But don't be surprised what has happened to me, is happening all over the world. Nothing will survive. Nothing! They should call us the death-generation.
And from death there shall raise life; a future generation, that need not be labeled.
Now, I had a helicopter's bird's eye view of the lineup. Looking downward at an angle, with about a mile wide of torrential whitewater below, I am plunging into the abyss. Next thing I know I am surfboard fishing it.
I remember standing on the shore and not being able to see past the huge waves crashing in front of me. There were deep dark green waters, violated by white frothing spit, making a distinct pattern on the water, like emerald green leopard spots in a sea of nothingness. My mind screamed impenetrable, but somehow I made it out through the first break and I started fishing a channel in between a vicious outer-break and a less chaotic inner-break. I dangled in death.
I was fading in and out. It didn't last long, however; I was immediately transported back to helicopter view. Did I die? I was about a few hundred feet above the ocean, and it became apparent to me that it was Northern California waters; I was not dead but alive. I was headed back through the thick forests of pine, cypress, and redwoods, where we landed at a hideaway, a small secluded tavern perched on a forested cliff overlooking the ocean, peaceful and serene. People were partying it up, they all smiled at me and had drinks in their hand and there was a lot of commotion, everyone was just having fun and being social.
There was a Great White Shark close by, we all knew it; but I remember feeling as though I fought off that terrible ocean. I remember feeling on edge. My patrons were happy, but I, however, came away with the dream. The scary ocean, the Great White Shark, were still in my mind.
