Flooding

It was before I had left my family. It was before I had packed my bags and moved away. It was before I had made the decision to start my career. The Dream that led me this way.

When I was home, I had worked all summer. When I was home, being stuck inside was a bummer. When I was home, I tied up all my loose ends. When I was home, I knew my responsibilities, I could not pretend.

Each day I rose, and I challenged myself anew. Each day I rose, I'm not the same person I was then, for I had grew. Each day I rose, I moved with decisive action. Each day I rose, I focused on removing all distractions.

I applied myself, I worked on my academics. I applied myself, glorious was I before, and further I have improved my athletics. I applied myself, each time I was turned down I continued to rise. I applied myself, I was making and taking opportunities before everyone else's eyes.

I couldn't stop, for if I did then I would be at fault. I couldn't stop, the cessation of my inertia would bring me to a halt. I couldn't stop, I wanted to make sure each day that I felt fulfilled. I couldn't stop, I had to press forward and make a new normal for my will.

In my dreams, I tossed and turned. In my dreams, I would sweat as my body would burn. In my dreams, I traveled to places, and encountered myself. In my dreams, I learned how not to struggle by asking for help.

In one dream, I was within an old town. From there the citizens walked all around. The buildings were constructed as wooden cottages. Every person learned to respect the flooding. For the water held the citizens as hostages.

Horses, horses, majestic and proud. Horses, horses, their neighs were loud. Horses, horses, their hooves made the clip-clopping sound. Horses, horses, even they knew to seek higher ground.

Carriages were drawn, pulled by the steeds. Carriages were drawn, trampling over the water reeds. Carriages were drawn, people were dressed for attire in the 1830s. Carriages were drawn, no sirs or goodwives dared to step in the mud, for it was dirty.

Then the flooding commenced. The water began to rose. It creeped up my legs, as a shivering sensation follows. From there the town was lost, a figment of my imagination. Now, I was in a different area. The mind has perspective ways of committing translocation.

The water, the delta, the stream, was salty and clear. I floated within a bucket. Something sounded familiar to my ear. I looked over my shoulder, and saw something that made me grin. Two gray flukes, mist in the air, swimming up to me were dolphins. They swam by me, past me, and the water they sent would occasionally splash me. I felt safe, even as they sent wakes. The bucket would sink below the surf, but a lift and empty was all it would take.

It was more than just a metal pail. It was a small boat, complete with a sail. Yet, as I continued to row through the water, I came across other people, two sons, and two daughters. They swam with the dolphins, practicing their dives, and swimming fast, trying to win. Yet, the lovers of the sea would outcompete them both as they were born within the waters, designed to swim.

As I continued my way to paddle upstream from the ocean, the water turned fresh, yet, it didn't churn dark. This was a sign for the best. As I continued, I decided to rest at a certain mark. I swam betwixt a grove of trees, and a wooden fence, that where suburbians parked.

The last house's fence was that of a metal. Of water that breached into their yard, was scarce at all if very little. It was a small circular area with which I floated in, my small ship kettle. I looked into the clear blue waters, that of which I did not settle.

I could not see the bottom, but only sheer blue. Yet, even though the bottom was out of view, the sense of safety was ever true. A dolphin had swum into the area, wondering what I would do. It chased and ate tadpoles, those that I would catch too.

Within my boat, was a container who's material was elastic. It was a bottle made out of plastic. The tadpoles, were of many colors, patterns, and designs that all seemed to be fantastic.

The tadpoles seemed to sit still. Yet they were not ill. Putting my container within the water, I proceeded to get my fill.

Within the bottle, their tails fluttered and flittered. My heart was joyous as it jumped, and I tittered. In my waking hours, I learned all that is gold does not glitter.

As I continued upwards through the river, there was a small narrow passing. The water within my sailboat continued on amassing. Paddling on forward I heard the songs of a sparrow. If the ocean were a body, the river's water was the bone marrow.

I entered a larger setting. Had I not written it down within a journal, I would be forgetting, about how I used the bottle and continued netting more and larger tadpoles. There was only one thing possibly upsetting.

The tadpoles seemed to be still within the water, yet they were not fake. I think I saw a large black one move in a serpentine motion, just like a snake. It reminded me of an eel, or amphiuma. It's skin was sleek and blacker than the coat of a puma. Yet, I was satisfied with the catch I came to make. Trying to catch that creature was a risk I was not willing to take.

Upon leaving the areas, and I was back behind the houses. The children still played in the water with the dolphins. Nearby neighbors from nearby spouses.

There was something I felt missing, something that was lost. Having to replace it would be an enormous cost. My cards, my ID, my money was stored in a blue case. What do you call it? Watertight, sealed shut, I hopped the fence into a yard, and I found my wallet.

My money before was safe. The tadpoles I caught, were not misplaced. I don't know why, but the I traveled to the opening of the ocean, where I was originally displaced.

Swimming past the children, past the dolphins, past the walled in suburb across from the trees that had grown into the ground of nutrient rich soil they stood within; the salt called to me. Not the sunset, but the Atlantic sea. The basin which many a group had journeyed.

The flood ceased. I was back within town. The water pressure eased. No person, and no horse drowned. The water was at my knees, but upon looking down. My clothes were dry, with not a single crease. My tadpoles and wallet were in my possession, not a single frown.

I entered a building with my mother. Within there was a woman who she was familiar with, she was another. Even in her years of wisdom and age her beauty she could flaunt. She treated herself well, so the years would treat her well. This woman resembled my great aunt.

I walked around the inside, stillness could not keep my curiosity contained. Within the cupboards I found the models of several planes. From opening the box, I did refrain. Yet, my great aunt helped to teach my the circuitry, things that my school could not get to stick within my own brain.

She had two Masters Degrees, one in circuits and the other in batteries. She told me about how we are batteries. We have the ability to conduct ourselves with such elegancy. As she taught me, she spoke rather eloquently. It was obvious that language was apart of her self-mastery.

In our nature, we choose how we desire to use our energy, to conduct. Within our capacity, we can develop a better construct. By preparing ourselves for opportunities, we have better chances at attaining much luck. Even when misfortune has come, and were are struck. Down we do not stay, for we are have enabled ourselves to move when we are stuck.

When I awoke, I began to search for my dream's meaning. For a new day had dawned. The sun was gleaming. With vigor and enthusiasm, I was beaming. The search tabs within my web browser were like animals at a trough, they were teeming.

With speed I moved. I did not stall. Even at times when I struggled, I had to pick myself up from a fall. Sometimes I feel like I had run up against a wall. Smooth and impregnable, past the clouds its height does stretch, it's massively tall.

Yes, there was a time where I did slip. As I scale this wall, there had been times where I was worried about my grip. Yet, I had swung from portion to portion, with but a mere flip. As I continue to gain confidence in myself, my heart beats steadily, it no longer skips.

To climb up one side, just to go down the other? I have moved on from a life of ease, I am not smothered. It seems that the wall is taking me towards a new area, as the place currently looses its tether. Somedays I seems that I am floating gliding across its smooth surface, moving and weighing lighter than a feather.

I must admit, there was a time where I my mind lived in scarcity. I had talked with a man, who spoke to me with intensity. The dreams of which he spoke of most people wish to have such immensity. Yet, the my instincts told me to "Fight and Flight" with such density. I recognized his tactics, and that of others from experience, for which I developed instinctively. Continuous further developmental change is apart of my propensity.

I continue to search for wisdom, clarity. I see other people not tending to their own hearts and minds, it is a disparity. So many need counseling, and we all need to look deep within ourselves, cognitive therapy. For no one can love us better than ourselves. When we stare into the abyss, we must shout, "I LOVE ME!" For it is difficult to be generous to others, when we cannot give unto ourselves our own deserved charity.

As I continue to climb the wall, naturally I make course corrections. If I had left the ground in one area, in the other, gravity could pull me in the other direction. Building upon wisdom, experiences, knowledge, I amass a collection. Learning from the mistakes of others is vital for us. It's for our own protection.

As today ends, tomorrow gradually approaches us as it moves toward. Remember to rest so you may continue to advance forward.