tsunami dreams

i have a recurring dream involving a tsunami. truthfully, it's not a tsunami but a serious storm that brings a series of massive waves. think "point break", my favorite movie when i was all of, oh, say, 12. as everyone hurries away from the beach, i grab my surfboard and head, elated, to the sea to surf. and i rip it up, i must say.

thing is, i don't even surf.

what does it mean? i've never really known, but i do have the dream a few times a year, and have for most of the past decade.

now, living in communities rebuilding themselves post-tsunami, i find that all of my warm feelings about tsunamis have disappated.

the other night, resting, eyes closed, at the end of a beach around 1 in the morning, i realized that if a tsunami were to come in the dead of night, i wouldn't see it or even know where to go. i'd be trapped, the inlet running parallel to the beach behind and no higher ground for miles. the center where i'm staying? it was trashed in the tsunami. even if i were there, a kilometer from the beach, there's no guaranties.

nearly 50 children from this village died last december. there are only 25 families here. so most families probably lost more than one child. i can't even begin to imagine the anguish.

last week was the anniversary of the tsunami. i went to an cafe for breakfast. i was exhausted from too little sleep and i missed the water prayer because i overslept and i was in a daze so i sat down for an overpriced underfilling meal. and then we saw the coverage on tv. made me cry. but i couldn't tell if i was crying because i've been so well socialized to associate the dramatic music they were playing (think legends of the fall, english patient, shindler's list) in the background with the apex of the drama and sadness of an epic film, or because of the trauma of what i was watching, solely. it felt so strange to watch intimate moments like a mother cradling a photo of her child to her bosom as she sobbed in front of the memorial. that stuff shouldn't be on display, almost. packaged and commercialized to draw people to watch the news, gorge upon other people's misery. i felt like a voyeur. i had to turn away in shame, crying silently over my toast and bitter coffee.

it's a terrible and mind-boggling thing, the power of this tsunami. it tossed gigantic fishing boats a mile into shore. can you imagine? a mile away from shore a gigantic police boat was deposited upon the sands beyond the main road? most everything was destroyed. when i arrived in khao lak, the sidewalks were pure sand. two weeks later they had installed tiles and grass and plants. it's weird. the whole place is springing back, but there's still so much unease.