The Nightmare

When I'm stressed I get a reoccurring dream about a tsunami and usually lose those I care about in the process. Last time I lost Hayley and couldn't find her, even after the wave had hit. Understandably I hate these dreams and, when I get stressed, begin to dread the return of them.

The first one was when I was around nine I think, the wave in this one was spied by me from a beach and we all ran to the car (me, dad, mum and lizzie) and got in and raced home. Our windows and doors were airtight (for some reason) and we shut them all up and waited. The wave hit, and we found that it had dragged half the seabed with it so we had to climb out of mine and lizzie's bedroom window. There was sand everywhere, and half buried caravans. I remember seeing people from my church who were wandering around.

I can't swim, I've never learned and I don't have any wish to. I know I could if I wanted to, but after being told by everyone new that I meet that they will teach me, I'm getting slightly sick of it. However, I'm not scared of the sea, not at all, but last night was strange. Mark and I went to watch the sunset and we were high up on the cliffs, the perfect view, but as the sun descended it vanished into the haze. Mark said he thought it was because of the humidity (which is probably true) but I couldn't help it, suddenly my mind was full of giant waves that would obscure the sun. All I could think about for the next twenty minutes was how to check for tsunami signs.

I know, dear readers, that it makes no sense. A tsunami in the Mediterranean? You must be joking. But I guess that's what irrational fear is, completely and utterly irrational. I was fine once I knew we were heading back to the car, but before that I felt almost panicky.

Still, there was no tsunami wave, nothing to fear, and here I am, sat in bed blogging once again. Hopefully the next nightmare will be a long time coming.

Later readers.