I dreamed it again, last night. One of my favorite locations of the dream was the setting this time, down on the Central Coast. In the current dream, there was a storm in progress, with huge thunderclouds and waterspouts off the coast. And the storm-driven waves were nibbling away at the little strip of new coastline, where sand had drifted up against the foot of the new coastline, which lay maybe 20 feet higher than the current level of the ocean, where it usually is in this dream. But the storm surge was driving higher, eating away at the slope of the hill, creating new bluffs, pulling away the thin margin of sand. The houses that are there now were all gone. New trees had grown up. But the bones of the hills were still the same...except for where the higher water had altered them, in ways both predictable and expected. New rocks exposed, out in the sea, where once land had been, a little valley now brackish marshland.
As always, it's very real. It's both alarming and reassuring, like watching both the death of something and the beginning of something else, cycles. It's destructive, and full of the awesome power of nature, and yet at the same time that power of nature is both magnificent and familiar. I feel like I am seeing a future, perhaps one I shall not see any other way. And one in which I probably have no part. And yet, I see it. And know I shall see it again.