What If All Dreams Came True

The morning sun shone through the rift of the blinds one morning, and my semi-conscious mind must have processed the red-eyelid-grid it saw as the fret-board of a cosmic stringed instrument. I began hearing the most beautiful music I have ever heard, as my mind’s eye watched each glistening sun-ray pluck the strings. I remember being astonished by its dexterity, and melodic perfection. Upon awakening, I tried to duplicate the notes I had heard, and saw, on my guitar—If only I could remember them note for note.— From what little I was able to remember, and attempt to simulate on the fret-board, the notes seemed impossible to play in one key. Almost as if each note came from one of the 24 individual keys of the musical spectrum. It totally seemed to of been an impossible dream— But, what if all dreams came true?  I thought, and then it was gone…

I was standing on a sea-shore, in some far away place beyond the familiar sea, where nothing looked real, or resonated with me. There were neon colors, and bird-like creatures. Lifelike, but surreal. I perceived them with all 5 senses at once. I felt, tasted, heard, smelled, and saw them — from one sense of awareness — at once. I wanted to talk to them, so I tried to open my mouth, instead my eyes opened. And I awakened. It was over…                                                         What if all dreams came true?
I heard the phone ring as I was walking in through a large glass door leading to a hallway between two rows of desks occupied by dogs with huge human like grins, when suddenly one of them leaped out at me and said…     “You Won The Lottery”  —  But, then, of course, I woke up. 
I dreamed I was in a terrible hurricane, worse than any of the ones I’ve experienced first hand on the Carolina coast. It was terrifying. Water started moving in beneath my feet, and gradually rose to the level of my chin. Suddenly, a tidal wave came crashing over me, the town, and everyone, and everything, as far as I could see. And, then I woke up — But, what if every dream really did come true? Or. What if some really are warnings? What if we knew that every dream would come true? What If every dream did come true?

 

 

 

 

Graphic Images by TylaMac

Tidal Wave Image by devourerofsouls 

Grinning Dog ?

 

 

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Grave Yard of the Atlantic

No one knows how long ago the first sea going vessel met her demise off the treacherous North Carolina coast.

Of an a-surety, still, from the first of the known recorded ship logs, in 1526, the climatic pool of intersecting seas has been known of, and feared for hundreds of years.

During those 500 years of recorded ship wreck history alone, the sea has claimed an unknown amount of lives, and a thousand ships, in just one area known as Diamond Shoals.

Here just off shore of Cape Point, on Hatteras Island, the north bound warm water Gulf Stream of the Caribbean, collides head on into the southward searching Labrador Current, from the Arctic.

The raging collision of underwater rivers, one rushing 140 tons of water per second in a straight line from the tropics, along the eastern seaboard; then suddenly making a sharp easterly turn, is not the only monstrous force of nature taking place at this infamous cemetery of the sea.

High above the ocean surface, swirling, and colliding occasionally due to temperature changes in separate channels known as the stratosphere, and the troposphere, are treacherous, weather makers known as jet streams.

Jet streams, in turbulent areas of opposing temperatures, such as the area of the Grave Yard of the Atlantic, can be just as contributing in catastrophic sea disaster, as its underwater counterpart, known as the Gulf Stream.

Combine these two natural phenomena, with any of the weather, and underwater conditions that they are both capable of creating independent of the other, and you have a two-headed sea monster, with an insatiable hunger for change.

Sandbar, shoreline, seashell, or ship; the great Gyre of the mid-Atlantic sea blindly chews into whatever befalls it’s merciless ardor.

Barriers get bored through, sucked up, and spit out in completely different places, in the roaring expanse.

Unseen obstructions, by now completely imponderable by unsuspecting craft meandering their way through the aftermath, which can appear on the surface, as calm, glassy, smooth sailing seas.

It’s not that this section of ocean is always impassible. However, in days gone by there was just no way to foresee the dangers that may lie beneath the surface, until one was already entrapped within the clutches of its whirl- pooling,  in-navigable snare.

Other days, though usually stormy ones, apprehensive mariners, already fighting for their ships and life, can see the two oceans collide before them,  sending spume, foam, sand, and sea life 100 feet into the air.

The first sighting had to have been a heart stopping show for 16th century sailors, thousands of miles from home.

Like a mystical mid-ocean geyser, or a giant mythical mist spewing whale.

Likely, many a mate rubbed his eyes in disbelief, as fanciful, far-fetched tales, told by salty dogs, over a chug of Rum, in some dank Wharf tavern, on yon shore, came to their fearful minds and memory.

Making a decision at that time, to hoist all sails, throw caution, ship, and crew to the wind, or, veering to avoid such a terrifying visage, could either mean life or death for all aboard the great sea fairing vessel.

Decidedly, many a ship’s Captain opted  to weather the awe-inspiring passage, with wind filled sails, and lived to tell of the adventure.

Others, unfortunate, as fate and time would have it, were caught on top of the two bottomless walls of water, just as the two recoiled from their powerful collision, and  swallowed whole into the massive fissure, being crushed by the next on coming clash, of hundreds of tons of swell.

Of those who veered to miss the terrorizing show, of many, some must surely have survived. While many others, less fortunate, ran aground, by angry waves, and rushing wind.

Sadly, many wooden vessels, of yesteryear, have also crumbled into their own crushed hull, after violently plummeting down atop a barrier reef, or one of the constantly changing Diamond Shoals.

As not all ship logs, by any means, were  salvaged, from the all too many wrecks of the boisterous belching brute; out of a thousand recorded, and charted ships, it is impossible to know the exact circumstances of how they met their untimely demise.

There are page, after page, after page, of chartered oceanic disasters listed in detail, about this stretch of Barrier Islands. Starting in 1526, and going through 1945.

Upon further research and study of  each case, we hope to  bring you more detailed renderings, of some of those wrecks, in hopes, that if but for a short read, and small pondering of the heart;
we can raise at least one of those great ships back to life, from forgotten history, and rest…From the Grave Yard of the Atlantic.

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