T
he octopus stretches its long arms towards me. I swim without coming anywhere at all in a bottomless ocean.
Rough fingers are stroking my cheek.
A distant voice tells me I am beautiful when I’m sleeping.
My body is rocked recklessly on an uncomfortable base and my legs have that unpleasantly numb feeling.
Heavy eyelids open when the faraway voice requests me to wake up because it’s 7 a.m. and time for my morning shift.
I’m startled to see Janek sitting beside me on the couch.
“Good morning! I’ve been thinking that perhaps you’d like to sleep in my cabin instead. It has a double bed, so there’s room for two there… and this couch is not really a place to sleep.”
“This is just fine, here!”
I need to clear my throat to get my voice working, as even it seems to have gone numb.
“No problem, it’s up to you. Just trying to be helpful.”
He raises his hands as though to plead his innocence.
“Thanks, Janek, but I sleep just fine here!”
My attempt to smile becomes a grotesque grimace when I try to get up.
“Yes, I can see that.”
He shakes his head and goes up on deck.
My head is pounding.
My eyes water. The tears spill over, thinking about the day and the night I must meet.
I dry away the tears with my sleeve. I must be strong and not succumb to any pathetic martyrdom. I can make this… we ought to be ashore within a few short days now.
My body explodes within when I finally manage to raise myself up. Something, or everything, must have broken again when I fell so many times these past days on the boat.
A wave causes me to lose my balance and I plummet to the deck. The faint scent of tar from the floor makes me nauseous. Tears leak from my eyes as I try to get up again.
Who can help me here? I am far from the pain medications deemed completely legitimate to use for intoxication.
My hand digs in my bag for the Asian pain killers.
I need to find a way to get myself beyond this pain.
Beyond this here and now.
A sob blubbers up and is buried in my elbow.
It hurts too much, so I become silent.
Silence doesn’t hurt.
It just is.
I swallow two painkillers. I open the log and record the boat’s position for the hour and shift.
On deck, all three sit debating vehemently. I sit down, as is socially expected, despite not liking the mood of this collection.
Arms are waved and the energy behind the words attempts to convince in an aggressive and manipulative manner.
Ego’s manner. An ego who wants to win a battle. An ego who feels diminished by a defeat and grows with every victory.
The ego that is the root to every war, great and small.
This ego that only exists in thoughts seductive and illusionary sphere.
I endeavour to enjoy the beautiful sea and the robust nature we find ourselves in.
But it doesn’t work, too many human noises around me.
I leave the discussion of religious affiliation which seems to annoy and stagger off to my spot furthest forward on the boat.
The place I feel at home in.
Where the wind silences all noise.
Where I have the confidence that the waves will take me where I am to go, even though it means great challenges.
In the wave’s valley I breathe out.
For no wave is too big for the sea – it is truly a natural part of it.