Do you like going to the beach? Some don’t care for sand. I have a friend who once remarked, while shaking out her towel, repositioning, trying to brush sticky granules from her hands, “Don’t you just wish the beach was made of concrete?”
I’ve never wished the beach was concrete. I love sand. I delighted in seeing each of my three grandchildren discover it for the first time. They slipped tiny fingers in, pulled them out, watched it fall. Then brought those sand-laden digits to their mouths and gave a startled look at the gritty taste of it. Now that they’re almost five, three-and-a-half, and almost one, we sit with their mama for hours, filling buckets, packing them down, turning them over, seeing if the cone-shape holds. We build villages, then the girls smash them before we leave the beach, taking great quantities of sand with us, on our bodies, towels and beach toys.
And could there be anything more soothing than walking the beach? Waves lapping. Clouds drifting. Seagulls squawking.
Being on a beach on a warm summer day is like being given permission to daydream, a thing responsible, hard-working, money-making adults don’t get to do often enough. And whether one is analyzing actual dreams, or daydreams, it’s interesting and enlightening to look at the meanings behind the symbols. A beach? According to dreammoods.com, a beach represents the two states of mind. Despite its shifting qualities, sand is the rational and mental processes. Water is the irrational, unsteady and emotional aspects of mind. According to The Complete Dream Dictionary by Pamela Ball, “A lake, like a pool, can signify a stage of transition between the conscious and the spiritual Self.” So walking a beach – whether in dreams or daydreams or waking life – is a wonderful way to reconnect with oneself. Says dreammoods.com about water, “It is also symbolic of spirituality, knowledge, healing and refreshment.”
After many years of studying the lake near me, Lake Huron, I wrote this poem about her changing moods:
A lake in fall?
An enthralling woman
Rustling leaves and memories
Her ice cream season leaving
A lake in winter?
A splintering old man
Tussling greys and great decay
His hollow bosom grieving
A lake in spring?
A flinging babe in arms
Thrusting up blues and daunting hues
Tender heartbeat, lungs breathing
A lake in summer?
Hustling sweat and brilliant sunsets
Dreams coming real each evening
Here’s hoping you find time this summer to be like a lazy but refreshing summer lake: drifting, reflecting, observing under faded denim blue skies dotted with the whitest and puffiest of clouds.
Photo credit: Jetanne DiCola.