On The Open Shore

I had a dream recently.

I was walking shoeless on a beach.  Each step I took, I felt the cold sand envelop my toes. The sand was soft and unbroken, each time I stepped I shattered the tension of the surface, cracking the world around it. There was though a pleasant wind that blew. The wind danced around and moved through me as if it were as familiar as a memory.

I look to see where I was, but the horizon filled white with fog; I could not see far enough to know. Looking about, all there was were the valleys of displaced sand from the path I already took.  I could not go back, but I did not know where else to go.
So I trudged slowly listening to the sound of the waves and the wind.  I approached the sea, but the wind became biting and unrelenting. Pelting sand at me, with every strike feeling like leather cracking across the skin. The flurry made seeing more difficult; I covered my face for protection, how was it I was to find my way? I listened to the waves to guide me in this storm.

I kept walking, and the wind kept blowing.  Suddenly my feet felt wet, as the sand became robust and easier to traverse. The wind stops, but so do the waves. I follow the wet sand, hoping to find the sea. I listen and look, but there are no waves and no wind just wet sand beneath my feet. I keep walking until I see a shadow, and I am swallowed whole.

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