the story of the hurricane

I remember when Hurricane Gilbert threatened Corpus Christi in 1988. When I was thinking about it last night, I remembered Gilbert as being the last major storm threat to Corpus Christi. In actuality, Hurricane Bret was much more recent, threatening the coast in 1999, but I was living in Austin at the time, starting my first year of graduate school, so I don't have quite as many memories of that one. I know that when Bret began to approach, my mom stayed in Corpus to take care of the houses, while my grandmother came to Austin for safety. That parallels my memory of Gilbert -- I came to Austin with my grandmother and great-grandmother, I think. I don't remember my mom coming with us, although that might be the cobwebs of age catching up with me.

At any rate, the prospect of a hurricane was always terrifying to me growing up on the Texas coast. Perhaps as a result, my dream was more vivid than usual, and intensely colorful.

I can't remember all the details now, but in my dream, I was completely unaware of the approaching hurricane until it was upon us -- more like a tornado, really. For whatever reason, I ran for shelter to my old wooden house, in my old neighborhood. I knocked on the door desperately, and a woman who I didn't recognize opened it. I assumed she had bought the house. "Hello, Rachel," she she said, addressing me directly, "come in."

In my dream, I realized that I was at the wrong house and began to run to my mom's house, about two and a half miles away. The sky was slate-grey, and the clouds swirled ominously in the sky above me, like one of my grandfather's watercolor paintings, but the air was deathly still. I was aware that it was the eye of the storm, and I ran faster, knowing that the reprieve from the weather would be brief.

I ran down Ropes Drive to Ocean Drive and headed south along the sidewalk farthest from the water. On the windward side of the street, there were dozens of other people running through the parks in a panic, just as I was. From behind me, a car honked, and I saw my family as they pulled over to let me into the car. It was my mom, my grandmother, one of my aunts, and most notably, my great-grandmother, who looked very anxious and ill. At that moment, I became aware that I was dreaming, that my great-grandmother has been dead for several years.

The scene closed as it would in a movie, and then opened around my grandmother's round kitchen table, where I was recounting my dream to my family, the hurricane still around us. That's the last I can remember of it. I woke up coughing as I have much of the week. I'm still battling whatever crud blindsided me on Tuesday.

I don't really know what the dream portends, but it has left me feeling a bit uneasy today.