Dreams.

There is one, recurring, dream. When I do sleep, though rare an occasion it is, I dream of only one thing:

Darkened skies and raging waters. There is no beach to swim to, there is no raft to hold fast. There are fins; circling fins. I am there, I see myself from above, in the middle of it all. Waiting. Always waiting.

Then I wake.

Sometimes there is rain, sometimes lightning and thunder. Never is there light from the 'rifter. Never.

I like it that way.