I have nightmares about the ocean. They never start off scary. In my dreams, I am excited to go to the beach. It’s often the same seaside town I visit in my slumbering journey: a rather New England-looking village that slopes down a hill toward the shore. Cheerful buildings, boardwalk, winding sidewalks and narrow roads, bright sunlight on a sparkling sea. People out walking, riding bikes, visiting shops. I stand at the top of a hill looking down at this idyllic scene, appreciating its beauty.
And then the wave comes.