Lake

Our last day at the lake was Saturday. The wind was really strong all day, and the lake had beautiful 2 foot waves crested with froth. In the family, we call these white caps. I wonder if other people use that term. You could also call the water extremely rough. The coarsest grade of sand paper, good for abrasion. Not the kind you use for polish.

I was wondering if the lake was going to "turn over," my sister and I used to notice that when we got in the water after a storm, the warm water layer had flipped underneath the cold layer, the reverse of how it usually is. Hard to figure how those layers could stay cohesive with the ruckus going on on the surface.

Last year when I was at the lake, I dreamt that I was in the water near the dock. The water had a milky opalescence and luminosity. There was a man near me with red hair, a figure that's turned up in other dreams. I was standing on my hands in the water and the man was telling me OK, now turn over. In reality, this would have been very easy to do. But in this dream for some reason suffocation seemed like more of a possibility and the depth of the water was exaggerated. It was as I imagine being snow blind would be.

I interpreted it as something with a spiritual meaning, something indicating that my values and priorities were all wrong. I was worshipping the wrong gods. But relieved that by the strength of my arms I could find reorientation.

This year, the first time I got in the lake, it felt like a garment hanging around my waist, 2 miles across and 11 miles long. What a big skirt. This was when the lake water was as smooth as glass.

The people who look forward to boating on the weekend must have been very disappointed last Saturday. I feel a little bit bad for them. It is fun to speed over the water and explore the lake, troll in front of Frye's Leap, maybe jump of the granite cliff into the depths below. But I felt glad that the wind had elected to forbid boating that day, so the lake got to clean up a bit, was spared god knows how much fuel residues. One brave man was wind surfing, it was astonishing to see how fast he moved across the water, as if he didn't touch it at all. He managed to come about, i.e., change direction, at least one time before he went down. My grandmother in her wheel chair saw the man as well, she told me that she surfed like that, in her chair. It seemed like she was smiling, but I couldn't quite tell if she were joking or delirious.