Swimming

Had this dream a few days ago:

I’m hanging out on the beach with a bunch of friends. They are all super buff, tanned, hearty beach types. We’re having a great time. One of them tells me a story about the ghost sailboats that haunt this shore. Swimmers see them and are compelled to go after them, climb aboard. They swim too far, are carried out to sea, and drown.

My friends leave and I am sitting watching the waves as the sun goes down. Suddenly, I see them — the ghost boats, dozens of them, glowing, translucent, rolling with the waves. I get in the water and swim swim til I reach one and climb in. Turning around to look back at the beach, I see I’ve come much too far, and it is almost dark. I can tell, from this distance, that once it is dark I won’t be able to find the shore again. Far out on the horizon is a last moment of sun, narrowing into a shrinking triangle in the distance. I abandon the boat and swim toward it as it fades, and pull myself onto the sand, which is still warm.

I get up, brush myself off, and go to find my friends. They are inside, working out, cooking, listening to music, dancing. I go to the gym looking for one person in particular, a young black man. I want to talk to him about my swim, about almost drowning. When I get there, he has been handcuffed, and he’s being taken away by scary authoritarian goons. We are all arguing, crying, why are they taking him? Where are they taking him? Let him go, now, we say.

Then I woke up.