18 Ramadan 1441
I am grateful for every day I wake up, although some days, I wish I could sleep a little bit longer to spend more time in an intriguing dream.
I love dreaming.
This year, for the first several weeks of quarantine living, my dreams were narratively interesting—and consistently involved some form of water. The last time I had a series of water dreams was eleven years ago.
I dreamt of rivers.
I dreamt of the open sea.
I dreamt of oceans. Beaches. Springs. Lakes.
I dreamt of driving on a long road surrounded by water crashing on both sides. I dreamt of driving down toward the sea. I dreamt of driving along the seashore.
I dreamt of an ancient, opaque, white alligator that emerged from the deep. I wanted to tell people to get out of the water.
I dreamt of swimming in clear blue water. I dreamt of swimming in the late afternoon.
So much swimming.
I dreamt of boats moving along the water.
I dreamt of a place with many swimming pools. Large pools. Small pools. Fancy pools. Pools with slides. I walked around to explore in the evening right after the sun set. The pools were well lit. Some pools had a large crowd of swimmers. I avoided that pool and opted for a more private, remote location.
I must have been social distancing.
But once Ramadan began—and my transformation into a night owl was complete—I stopped dreaming about water.