a different story altogether

Ok, this is eerie. Yesterday I was thumbing through my journal (my little Moleskin) looking for something interesting to post, when I came upon an old entry. Somewhere between January 13 and 21, 2005, I had written about a vivid dream I had just had. Usually I don't recall all of my dreams, and most of the time they are not worth remembering anyhow. But this dream was exceptionally clear, and my first thought was that the dream would lend nicely to a story I could later write. So, I jotted down a crude outline for a story based on my dream, perhaps for a short story. I titled my entry ''A Different Story Altogether''. And, just to keep me on track of my inspiration, I also wrote down the full content of the dream.

I re-read this only yesterday, having forgotten I had written it and having completely forgotten my winter's dream. It shocked the hell out of me. This is what I had dreamed, in the exact words I had printed:

''Half dozen people adrift at sea in a raft. Lost all their belongings in capsizing of raft. Hole in one raft. Just in time...they come across an island. Looks more like a landing than an island. No sand. Just built up from water. There's damage, water damage on the island. The undisturbed inhabitants pay no attention to the damage. Live around it. They carry on usual lives. The rescued group looks at the damage in rooms. Water everywhere. Some of them see items they want to take. Antiques. Others from the gang were exploring elsewhere when they see dead bodies. Like they died suddenly in their homes. Those witnesses from the gang meet up with the others and tell them they all must get away quickly because something is not right. Living among the dead and destruction. As they are leaving, the townspeople see they are stealing some wares and try to stop them from going.''

It is altogether possible that my great short story idea was, in fact, a premonition of the chaos and destruction that would come some eight months later with hurricane Katrina and its flooding of New Orleans, a place from which my ancestors came. Of course, I can never be certain of this. But, I am suddenly more aware of the things for which we can not explain.