In the nightmare, the ocean has become a water park for confederate flag waving racists. The other scares me, and there are others who shiver down these shoots on our way into the unknown. I tell a small woman who cannot swim she can grab onto me for buoyancy, then I am afraid, as haters speed by with their flags and general loudness. I do not know where we are headed, just that this small woman, I fear is really my niece. I think that would be the one thing worse than this accidental vacation from hell, but then the spout is shooting us out, one after another or two at a time, into Goodness knows what, and I am thinking I hope we don't end up just repeating and repeating this same history. There is some decision, like left or right. What can we do? But anxiety is not unending. Generally after waking from the nightmare, or taking a dump, parts of our gut realign, and I open my eyes realizing there is this little dog snuggled up to me. At first I think it is to keep warm, but I know when I tell my Mom my terrible dream, she is right in suggesting Brazen was right there because I needed her. The reality is not a nightmare at all. That is just anxiety. I am still making it to the beach this year, and in this world, the ocean is still peace.