When the Ways of Water Symbolize Our Internal Emotional Landscape
The dream is me from the time I awake until the time I go to sleep
Three times last week I dreamed of water. First, it was a flood in the streets of Honolulu, where I used to live. I can remember walking in a direction away from the beach. Each street I walked there was a mixture of water and sand creeping through crevices between homes, slinking off curbs.
A few days later, the hubby and I were sitting on the beach and a wave overtook the shoreline. It seemed I was watching him from a slight distance, calling for him to get up.
The third, I was sitting in a small white boat anchored at a marina, then became unhitched and gliding down a canal. I found myself in a craft jewelry boutique where someone in my dream said I was in Vietnam.
Before I awoke I held inside my palm a taxi yellow ceramic tea kettle sketched with what appeared to be some sort of hut in black ink. It had Vietnam written on the side. I woke up, startled and confused. I’ve never been to Vietnam — at least not in this lifetime.
When’s the last time you thought about water — dreamed about it? We all take it for granted. Get up in the morning, wash our faces, brush our teeth, shower, drink a glass, give it to our pets, plants, and keep it moving.
