Another Wave

Night of October 21st

I'm in New York City, visiting my husband. He works there now, in some building. I'm touring around the city with two of his coworkers that I hadn't met before. In recent years, two huge icebergs have floated their way down and are now nearly against the city. Both are taller than the Empire State Building. Most of the people and companies have moved away, scared of the icebergs and the danger they pose. We are walking up one, allowed to do so. It's become an attraction. Cars are not allowed but there is a path as wide as a road packed down that winds its way up. We have been climbing for an hour or so, our backs to the city, and the path is about to turn onto the backside of the iceberg. We pause to turn around and look at the city. It's beautifully peaceful from up here with a great view of the other iceberg. We are standing, looking, quiet and motionless.

They are pointing at the other iceberg, telling me about it. Telling me that it's dangerous. Just as they say this, it breaks. The entire front of the iceberg crumbles and slams into the water. The sound reaches us, cracking and booming, as a wall of water shoots up into the sky forming a wave almost as tall as the iceberg itself. Well above the height of most buildings. I scream, "run!!" planning to get around to the backside of the iceberg we are on. "No!" says one of men, "take cover!!!" We run over to the bottom of a small ledge and crouch down, hoping to be shielded. I get it. The water should go right over us, like an airstream going over a car where if people were sitting behind the car on the ground they wouldn't feel the wind. The water is coming fast and the sound is deafening. The iceberg trembles, popping and cracking. I am hyperventilating, trying to fill my lungs with as much oxygen as I can, waiting for water to fall over the small ledge and hit me. Thoughts of my husband race through my mind. Where is he? Could he be dead? He's probably dead, he died, I'm alone, I'm lost. It is here. The wall of water rushes over us, somehow moving too fast to fall on us. Clear water is flowing over our heads. I'm still breathing too fast. I'm panicking. I'm screaming but the sound of the water overpowers my voice. I am expecting at any moment for the water to take me, to spin me, to throw me, to kill me. Suddenly the water slows and stops. Several feet of water falls straight down on us, soaking us, but quickly flows off the edge of the iceberg and downward. We stand up and look at each other. Then look down to New York City.

We are making our way back down the iceberg. Sliding on the new layer of ice. Creeping slowly downward. The city is in ruins. Buildings are gutted, all the windows broken. Water covers the streets where debris and bodies float. The three of us are silent. We haven't said a word yet. The iceberg we are on is now touching land. We come to the bottom and step off onto a hill. Most of the city has only 2 or 3 feet of water covering it. We can wade through. As I turn to look in front of me, I see my husband struggling against debris and trying to get to me. I run to him and we hold each other. He looks me in the eyes and says, "nothing is the same."

gap in the dream

My husband is driving us through the city on whatever roads we can find that are clear with low water. There aren't many people left alive. We are searching for a bridge or tunnel to get us out of the city. There is no reason to stay. We come to a road with several tunnels leading out of the city. The first is blocked. The second is blocked. So is the third. Then there is a dip in the road. We don't know how deep the water is. We have an SUV, we can probably make it. He backs the car up to give us a running start then accelerates quickly. Halfway through the dip the car slows, pushing against the water. We barely make it to the other side. The next tunnel is open and dry. We turn into it.