Most of us do dream about riding waves. Photo: Clement Falize//Unsplash
“All the things one has forgotten scream for help in dreams.” — Elias Canetti
Lately, all I dream about is surfing.
Yeah, you’re saying, “me too.” Most of us dream about the surf, especially when reading the newest email from your boss.
I mean at night, though, while I’m sleeping. Let me set the stage.
It’s been a long, muggy summer in New England, with barely a ripple to ride. Yes, by this time next week, our little beach town will hopefully be up to its clams in heady swell from Hurricane Erin. But I can only exist in the here and now — and then.
In June, we returned here from Southern California after a nine-day slog with a year-old rescue mutt, who spent those days perpetually confused as to just what the hell we were doing. We’ve now made this seesawing, coast to coast move eight times for my fiancé’s PhD program. Moving every year, fixing up the house to rent it, saying goodbyes — it’s worn on us; as has my lackluster job search, living in a glorified mobile home, spending too much cash, and missing family and friends.
However, living in a new town, and being constantly on the move has also been fun and refreshing. Aside from my fiancé, what’s kept my head above water, is quite simply the surf. The entire cyclical process of riding waves has become a constant. A listener. A release. A sport I train for, an art form I obsess over. And, sure, I’ll say it: an amigo.
Surfing’s a fair-weather friend, though, because when we’re back East for the summer, she breezes out of town and leaves me high and dry. In June, I dragged my nine-footer out of the dusty garage full of chirping crickets and caught a few knee-high waves. It did little to quench my thirst but was better than nothing. Then, the Atlantic took a deep breath, ripped a bong hit, and went to sleep for a few months. The Mashup I lovingly mashed into the car back in California sat sadly in the corner of our bedroom.
And life went on. Working two jobs, seeing friends and family, getting ready to get hitched; it all coalesced into a hazy summer cloud. Our little boat became our reprieve from the heat and the stress, and for once, the antique engine didn’t strand us out in the deep.
But, almost immediately, a funny thing happened: I began to dream of surfing.
First, I’m walking down a long dark road, a pumping swell echoing in the distance. My excitement turns feverish as the road never ends, day becomes night, and I’m still walking. A few nights later, I dream that I’m back in California, running down the beach at dawn, eyeing a perfect A-frame — then I look down and I’ve forgotten my board.
Some of the dreams are less stressful: I’m out alone, paddling into perfect overhead waves, and my board moves at the speed of thought. It’s easy to recognize this one is a dream, based on my daytime talent level, and I wake up in the dark, willing myself to get back to it.
So, why am I dreaming of surfing so regularly? It is because the ability to surf was so cruelly stolen from me, and that it’s been replaced by reading student essays, fixing the sunken deck or mowing the lawn? Perhaps. An abrupt move in childhood lead to me dreaming of the house I grew up in for many years, even if the dream had nothing to do with my childhood. Studies show that we dream about both autobiographical memories and the realities of our waking lives (ie, musicians dream more about music than non-musicians).
For Sigmund Freud, dreams were all about our hidden desires, our motivations and the things we wished to have. That lines up, in some ways, with my nocturnal fixation on surfing, especially the dreams where I’m ripping overhead waves effortlessly. Many of us also dream of people we have lost, and these grief dreams are thought by some to help our brains process our emotions and say goodbye.
I’ll never forget the dream I had about my grandfather the day after he passed, when he chuckled and said “I’m fine, Bri. Don’t worry about me.” Dream theory is slippery, but experts agree that we often dream about unresolved conflicts because our brains are trying to work through them. Interestingly, some point out that we dream of past versions of ourselves because we long to return to that time or state of mind, or change the circumstances of our current lives, especially if we are stuck in a flatwater rut. On the surf side of things, many interpret dreams about big waves to being overwhelmed emotionally, and drowning in your dreams can highlight the anxiety that comes from being overwhelmed at work or in relationships. So, next time you dream of getting pitched over the falls at macking Sunset, maybe take a deep breath and an inventory of your stress levels.
I’m no psychoanalyst or interpreter of dreams, just a guy longing to make the drop and throw some spray. At least right now, amid my messy subconscious, I’m still walking up the street and grabbing some tasty waves in the blue twilight of dawn. Plus, in my dream world, there’s no crowd factor, and I’m a much better surfer.
Update: the writer surfed the first day of the Hurricane Erin swell and that very night, had a dream that he robbed a bank at gunpoint. He’s currently trying to figure out what the hell that means.
