July 3, 2010

By Tyson Bottenus

Freud said that our dreams are disguises for unconscious wishes. If this is the case then, well, I guess I've caught a fever for schooner sailing.

I had the most unbelievable dream last night.

I was in my bunk, sleeping, when Jenan comes and nudges me. She says I have to trim a sheet. Ok, I wordlessly nod.

Jenan and I go way back – we were shipmates aboard SEA Semester class S-214 a few years ago bound for Tahiti. Back then we were undergrads. Now she's getting her Ph.D. at Scripps Institution of Oceanography in chemical oceanography. Intelligent beyond her years, I wouldn't question her orders.

We're not on the same watch, but since we're all on this ship together, I stand by to haul in my line.

I start hauling. Pulling, pulling, I keep pulling, hoping I'll hear Jenan tell me, "That's well," so I can make the sheet fast and go back to sleep. I have morning watch at 0700 and if I don't get a few hours in, I'll probably end up coiling all my lines in the wrong direction the next day. Rest is all I want.

Mind you, I haven't left my bunk.

I wake up to a crack, a line going too taut. It's the bungee cord holding up the curtain to my bunk. I have two hands grasped on it, bringing it my direction. I notice a few people tucked in the galley, cleaning. It's dark. They don't notice what I'm doing. Dazed, I let go of my curtain and throw my head back on my pillow. Did Jenan really tell me to haul away on my bunk curtain?

None of this makes any sense until the next morning when it turns out that I wasn't the only one dreaming. One of my watchmates has been having a recurring dream this entire trip. Another had a horrible dream where she adopted too many kids but couldn't hold them all at once. My dream paled in comparison.

I merely mistook my curtain for the mainsheet.

I swear if you took a poll every morning after a night where there was a strong sea swell and asked everyone in the ship's company if they had a vivid dream, you would find a positive correlation. Scientists have long known that we enter a shallow dream state when we sleep so I imagine that when our boat rocks back and forth, deep slumber becomes nonexistent. The perfect breeding ground for insanity and surrealism.

E.O. Wilson says that in dreams, "We wander across our limitless dreamscapes as madmen." It's true. Last night I was hauling away on my curtain like I would do if my only hope was to pull myself into the life raft of a sinking ship. In the morning – curious if the incident really did happen – I noticed that I bent the hook holding my curtain up.

Thank God the winds have abated – I can't imagine what my dreams would be like tonight after field day.