Dream Journal

Stormy Skies Ahead and Smelly Seas Below

The rain was so heavy and fell so hard that the windshield wipers could barely make their trek across the windshield. My mom was nearly straddling the steering wheel in order to get a better look through the fog. The yellow strips on the road were just barely visible as we inched past them, and anything ten feet or further  was reduced to a thick, white paste. 

My head jarred violently to the right, and I knew that the pavement had ended, and we'd almost made it to the cabins. I seemed to have drifted into a wonderland inside my head for quite some time, because the rain had dissipated into a light mist, and the fog seemed to thicken. I squinted and pressed my nose against the window, watching as strange, large rocks and bald patches in the grass passed by.

It was a rather outlandish, out-of-the-way destination, this place, and most of the locals didn't even know about it according to my mom, who had gone there in earlier years. The local beaches had been shut down due to inconsistent tides, leaving this private beach as the only one in the entire town for the time being. The end of summer was nearing, and it would be one of my last chances to get to a beach for some fun. This summer hadn't exactly been a blast for me, as I'd broken my ankle just as school was ending and the good times were supposed to begin. But there was something about these cabins that my mom just wasn't telling me, and although it pained me to have to wait, we were finally almost there. 

The car rolled to a stop, and before my mom could warn me that she'd parked at the top of the hill overlooking the sea, I dashed out of the passenger seat and into the humid, briny air of the beach. She called for me to get my luggage, but the moment I spotted my friends, who had been sprawled around the campfire and were now running to greet me, I completely disregarded her and made my way toward them. 

I climbed down the jagged embankment, skidding onto the gravelly sand to greet my friends. Most of them I recognized, some of them I didn't. I guessed that they were their cousins, or old friends from other schools. I expected them to shower me in a waterfal of questions about my ankle, and my summer, but instead, they silently led me beside them by the fire. And I soon realized why. 

Along the shore, the air had become much colder, the wind much fiercer. The murky green waves washed on the shore melodically, leaving in their path a ring of matted algae where they pounded the sand. I quietly watched them recede and return for upward of ten minutes, meanwhile squirming on the moist log I was offered as a seat, when a dark-haired boy that I didn't recognize suggested a swim. 

At first I was skeptical, but the back of my neck was beaded with sweat from the sheer humidity, and swimming in the swamp water didn't seem all that bad. Until one of my friends uncles warned us to watch for pihrannas. And although that was silly, there were other things we had to look out for...

I headed to the small restroom attached to the sides of the two small cabins on the left side of the beach, facing the shore. The floor of the bathroom rose and fell with the sea, as there had been holes chewed near the flooring that allowed a decent amount of water inside. I tiptoed my way around the tiny box, mumbling, "ew, ew," with each squishy, sloppy step.  

The inside reeked of the same rot and death you might find in a fishery, due to the combined smell of the salty sea. I finally managed to change into my bathing suit and carefully made my way to the exit, remembering to hop over the sewage creek trickling across the sand near the door. I scooped up a bright pink intertube that had been leaning against the shack, and pulled it around my waist like some form of protection. 

The others were wading thigh-high in the water, looks of sweet relief written all over their faces. I forced an unhappy smile and forced myself closer to the edge of the sea, my bare feet dragging heavily through the rocky sand.