A puzzling storm
I was on a ship in the middle of nowhere as it seemed. The wooden mast creaked in the wind, as the waves clashed and gripped the sides of the boat, rocking it side to side as if it was deliberately trying to throw something out. I was holding on as tightly as I could but the rope was wet and starting to tear bit by bit. I felt my eyesight zoom onto it, onto the very part that was ripping up slowly. With every new thread that was breaking loose I felt my pulse liven by another beat. Was this what Coyote felt like when he lost control of the rocks and bombs he was preparing for the Road Runner? The only difference was I wasn’t aiming at anyone. All I wanted to do was…wait…what did I want to do? And why on earth was I in the middle of the ocean in a storm? Was this my punishment for having fallen asleep during The Perfect Storm? It wasn’t my fault! I was tired (probably) and the movie seemed a bit boring (I think).
I crawled on all fours on the wet wooden boards as the wind was howling against my face, spitting out at me and pushing me back. My hair, all wet and loose was sticking onto my face, and at instants I could hardly see. I wanted to reach out and pull it back but all I could think of was…all the money spent in vain at the hairdresser’s the previous afternoon. Wait…what?
I reached that trap door that now seemed better known as a ‘rescue door’ instead. Opening it was a real challenge. Pulling the handle against what felt like a tonne of a blustering current pushing against my frozen hand. Clack! Oops! The handle came off and I was left staring at that in my one hand, while at the same time desperately trying to hold on to…well basically anything! I used the side of the handle to pull open the door. Hey, at least at times like this I was innovative. But where was everyone else? Shouldn’t a ship have a whole crew of sailors and cabin boys, and perhaps even that occasional dog that would be running around in everyone’s way? Where was everybody? And most importantly, who was driving?
I wanted to go and check. But under that slit of a door everything seemed so much calmer. If only I could find the light switch. Suddenly light appeared as of nowhere. Was this the “and then there was light” moment of the movie version of whatever it is that I am living?
I looked around. I was in a cheese cellar. I don’t know where that fit into anything. But I actually found myself looking for the barrel of wine to crack open to go with the small piece of cheese I had managed to cut off. Mmm. It was smoked too. French or Italian, I couldn’t quite tell yet. Either way, where was the wine?
The box next to me smelled weird. I hoped there wouldn’t be a dead rat inside, and as every strange thing that actually draws you in rather than out, I opened it with one eye half-closed. It was prosciutto. I think it was cotto too, ‘cause I’d prefer that to the crudo type. Evidently I didn’t have enough for dinner. And all this made me thirsty. I extended my hand and reached over, grabbed the small plastic bottle of mineral water that stood beside me and nearly drank it all down in one gulp. Wait. Plastic bottle of water in a cheese cellar with traces of ham, entered through a trap door on a ship found in the midst of a storm somewhere? What was going on??
I thought I was going to have a heart-attack. That damn buzzer! Why couldn’t they make alarm clocks wake you up with a soothing, subtle melody? Does it really have to be so abrupt? It did explain more or less everything though. The subconscious really is a mystery that takes over your dreams in the most awkward of ways!
Also part of Daily Prompt: Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)