Dearest Rachel –

Well, that was mildly unnerving. Just last night, I was telling Ellen and Erin how much I look forward to going back to traveling; how I’d like to just be able to grab someone’s hand, tell them “pack yourself a weeks worth of clothes, girl,” grab a flight and head off.

Here are the details that I remember, although bear in mind that I don’t know what any of those ports look like, nor do I know any ship by the name I saw. This was a dream, after all, and they’re not required to make any sort of sense. The fact that I get this many details is actually quite remarkable.

We (and I don’t know if you or Daniel were with me; I’m just sort of assuming it) had just been cleared to disembark in some port in southeastern Australia. Now, I don’t know if it was Sydney or Melbourne or Hobart, but somehow I knew it was one of those. Perhaps it was Hobart, because that’s far enough south that the next detail might actually make sense at some point in the year – although it would beg the question as to why on earth you would vacation there at that time of year.

You see, for whatever reason, I was shoveling snow off the gangplank. Or maybe it was somewhere on the port; I’m not really sure. All of which I think makes sense, since Tasmania is it about the same latitude as Wisconsin, so it might very well be possible. But why would you spend your summer there in the middle of their winter? And for that matter, would cruise lines even go there at that time of year?

But while I’m shoveling snow off the port or gangplank, I’m not thinking about things like this. I haven’t mastered the art of lucid dreaming yet; heck, I’ve barely gotten to the point where I realize I have such vivid dreams, let alone find myself conscious of being in one.

Anyway, I don’t remember the name of the ship that we had just left. What I do remember what is the other ship next to us in port, which, while not being a sister ship of the one we were sailing on, belonged to the same fleet as the ship we were sailing. It was the HMS(?) Valletta, and it was considerably smaller than our ship, which is going to prove important in just a moment.

Anyway, they too had just docked, and we’re working on getting passengers off and into port. Suddenly, as I was working (although I obviously stopped as I watched what was happening), the Valletta started to list. Strangely enough, I didn’t hear any screaming; you’d expect it if the ship you were on was about to topple over. And that’s what it did: it just… slowly tipped over, until it was on its side in the water. And really, it didn’t take long for it to be completely submerged, either.

And then the same shifted to later in the day (and let me just say as an aside how great a superpower it would be to just skip over those parts of your day – or even your life – that were uncomfortable, embarrassing or just plain boring, and draw what Mark Twain referred to as “a curtain of charity over the scene,” to resume once the story of your life was interesting once again), and we were back aboard our own ship, along with Diana T, Kathy L and her son Kevin. Oh, and for whatever reason maybe just dream logic they all seemed about 20 years younger than they are right now, although it didn’t seem that Ollie or Bud were with them. They had all apparently been aboard the Valletta, and were talking about their rather harrowing ordeal. Clearly, they’d gotten out safely, and even managed to salvage a carry-on or two (as I think they were disembarking at the time in any event), but whatever had been left in their stateroom had been essentially lost. That, and the fact that they were now a board our ship, sailing under our itinerary. A nuisance, to be sure, but they were safe, and had what they needed with them.

I think I may have said this before as I’ve relayed some of my more vivid dreams to you these past few months; were I a king or emperor in biblical days, this would probably mean something. As an ordinary man in ordinary days… not so much. I don’t intend to seek out any meaning to this dream anymore than I would any other. And I don’t think I’m gonna let it stop me from making an effort to continue to travel. I just hope it doesn’t scare off whoever I might intend to bring.

But I suppose it wouldn’t hurt for you, as always, wish me luck, honey. Love you.

Published by randy@letters-to-rachel.memorial

I am Rachel's husband. Was. I'm still trying to deal with it. I probably always will be.

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