The Sleep of Champions

Last night I had a dream that I went to a yoga retreat on a tropical island. And you were there, and you were there, and you were there. We were checking in for the meditation competition and warming up, like you do. We were catching up and laughing, drinking pre-game cocktails, and waiting for our spouses and boyfriends and girlfriends and partners to get past TSA so we could all enhance our calm together. At the competitive level.

We couldn’t see what happened from our lanai, but we could see the water rising and the people running. We were all safe, those of us who had already checked into the meditation competition.

The recovery effort was grim. Four-hundred local children had been swept into the river, plus many of our friends we had hoped to meet after the meditation competition. The recovery effort focused on the children. We hoped that our missing friends had found shelter. Brenna was caught in the deluge. But rescuers were still able to resuscitate some of the children. They aren’t healthy after recovery. They can’t eat or drink. We can tell the babies are dehydrated because their diapers are dry. They seem like the only try thing in the city. There will be a second wave of tragedy when the starvation sets in, unless we can figure out a treatment for the bacteria they picked up in the river. I offered to take up praying again, but the baby’s dad said it wouldn’t help.

We’re walking the walls around the river, looking for friends in the alcoves and children floating in the water. We’re safe, but we the guilt was consuming us. We couldn’t stop writing 8,000-word think pieces about what we saw.

Anyway, Happy Inauguration!