It isn’t just water. It’s rain, and that’s different. Water is the stuff inside of a stream or a lake or an ocean. Water is the stuff that comes out of a pump or out of a tap when we turn it on. But this stuff--the stuff that comes down from the heavens--it isn’t just water. This is rain.
And rain hides the sun. It blots the sun out of the sky and makes it seem as though it never existed. It was just a dream you had. It wasn’t real because there is no sun. There’s only rain. It brings the gray and usually the cold as well. It bites at your skin, and the wind creates tiny shivers in your body. Then you hunch your shoulders and bow your head and think of the dream.
|It isn't just water. It's rain.|
The rain lashes at your head and your face. It blinds your eyes and drenches your body. No matter how much rain gear you have, a torrential downpour will soak you as if you had jumped into a river. The wind finds every seam and closure on your clothes, and it drives the rain and cold inside. Deep, frozen hands reach inside and say, “Mine!” And you hunch and shiver and think of the dream.
Finally the seams will give way, and the rain seeps into your mind. Your thoughts become damp at first and then completely wet. The gray tendrils reach inside and cover every memory with a veil. The dream stays behind the veil, and you can only see shadows of it moving now and then beyond the curtain. The abyss is deep. No one crosses through and comes back alive, so you must wait for the rain to abate.
Creep back, then, to your house and hide yourself from the rain. We know how to weather the storm. Light a candle even if you flick every light in the house on. Light a candle and keep it in your line of vision. The glow is subtle at first, but it will grow. The old dream is stirring inside of you, and the candle warms and coaxes it out again. And now you are warm once more because like attracts like. The dream of the sun returns full force, and nothing can blot it out. You are still you.
Outside the rain continues, but now it is just water. The world is washed clean once again, and everything will be renewed. The grayness and the cold and the shivering have slipped away, locked beyond impenetrable windows. They must have been a dream. You won’t think of them again. Until you do.