The rising water

Everywhere I looked, there was nothing but water.

Debris was floating by. My mother's patio set drifted along piece by piece. A branch floated by. Books, pictures, furniture. All drifting by in a strange little dance as the waters got higher. Eventually the first floor was flooded and we were forced to the second floor. Then the attic. Then the roof.

Then the rain stopped. And we waited, the dog, the room mates, our neighbor Bev and others who saved themselves by holding onto our chimney. We yelled for help. For days, or what seemed like days, we yelled.

And then I woke up.

My pillow was wet with tears. Apparently I had been crying in my dream. It was the kind of dream that stuck with you for a long time. At first I had to get my bearings. No, I wasn't in New Orleans. I was safe, in my bed, the covers tangled around me from the thrashing and moving around during my dream. It was only raining outside.

Right away I knew why I dreamt of rain and wind and floods. Over the last couple of nights I had watched Spike Lee's "When the Levee's Broke" on HBO. Originally I wasn't all that thrilled abou plopping myself in front of the TV for 4 hours but the subject had intrigued me and the documentary came highly reccomended by Leslie. Then I sat down and was mesmorized by what I saw and the stories of the people, these people who lost everything and our government who did absolutely. nothing. to help.

I finished watching it over two nights. And finished with a feeling of guilt. I had not idea how completely decimated New Orleans was. That there are still peopl living in FEMA trailers or dispersed to other states who may or may not go back. The whole thing was very disturbing...and motivating. It made me realize that nothing is going to get done until people start taking a stand. And that if there is something, anything I can do, I'm going to find a way and do it.