I Woke Before The Flood Could Take Me

photo from the film The Day After Tomorrow

I could see a crowd of people running in the distance. I was about half a block away from the bustle. I had an odd sense of déjà vu. I had seen this crowd, and their running, before. Yet I did not run...toward them, from them, or with them. I continued to walk as I always did until I reached the street corner. The crowd was running past me to my right. 

Where was I? Was this New York City? If so, these strangers, who seemed familiar yet not, were heading south. The familiarity with the scene gave me pause at the corner of Whatever Street and Something Avenue. Where was I going? What were the people running from?

I finally turned to see what the people were running from. I saw it. A wall of water cresting over the avenue’s hilltop maybe three blocks away. I stared in shocked fascination then turned to join the crowd moving away.

This was happening. My sense of déjà vu spiked even higher. 

This had happened before. I remembered it. I had survived it. I had lived through this destructively rushing liquid wall's twin in my very recent past. I had run with all the others who were trying to stave off mother nature’s attempted murder. I had run down the hill (down the hill? Was this San Francisco?) toward a building that housed a department store. It rose maybe four stories. It had been tall enough. I had managed to get inside and climb up, up, and away from the wall of death that threatened to wash me away without a trace.

This time, however, I could see a crowd of people standing on the sidewalk in front of that same department store. They were pushing, shoving, shouting, screaming, beating on the glass. From what I could see, no one was getting inside. The revolving door was not moving. 

We had all been here before, but this time it was different. We were either late or the water was early. 

Somehow, even at the distance from which I stood, I could see that the ground level of the department store was filled with people. Movement had ground to a halt. Others were trapped inside the triangular pockets of the revolving door, briefly surviving to ultimately die. I could not imagine their fear even as I felt the hand of dread clench my heart. I could hear the roaring surge of the water approaching. I recognized this water. I knew it was taking with it everything in its path even though I refused to turn and look my approaching killer in the eye.

There was no building high enough for me to save myself. I had been here before but not like this: outside, completely unprotected. The hand of dread did not release its grip on my heart nor did it tighten any further. My terror was calm as I tried to accept my impending doom.

I heard myself say aloud,  “I guess I’m going to die today. I love you, momma.”

Then I woke