Ocracoke dream

[Author’s note: “Ocracoke Dream” originally was published in “the Island Breeze”, a monthly newspaper for Hatteras and Ocracoke Islands, in the fall of 1995.]

Occasionally we have the opportunity and privilege to experience life in an enhanced state. This natural state occurs through various means, including the perception of beauty, the connection with nature, the closeness with others, and the rush of adventure. Rarely does the experience seize and bring us in contact with the profound. My memory burns with an Ocracoke dream from fifteen years ago, newly ignited by a July 1995 visit to the island.

I had first discovered Ocracoke in my college years at Chapel Hill. The adventures were numerous: exploring the beaches, camping in the dunes, challenging the Graveyard of the Atlantic in my Laser, cruising on the free ferry, and surviving the ferocious mosquitoes. The island became the choice of Susan and I for our honeymoon of 1980. We were to be married on Susan’s grandparents’ property north of Durham in an outdoor ceremony. We celebrated with friends the night before the wedding in Chapel Hill, and spent the night outside of Pittsboro.

A vivid dream came to me that night. I was walking on a pristine Carolina barrier island beach. The day was strikingly beautiful: high pressure, brilliant blue skies, and a gentle breeze. But most striking was the ocean water clarity. As I walked into the water I could see every grain of sand. I continued to wade and marvel at the beauty of the sublime conditions. Suddenly a good size flounder swam by my feet. I reached down and grabbed it. I held it up, turned to Susan on the beach, yelling “Susan, look at the flounder!”

The dream was so vivid that I excitedly related it to Susan on our wedding morning. We spent the night in Durham after the wedding before packing up our VW bug with wedding presents and bikes, and heading to Ocracoke. We had rented a cottage on Howard Street, an unpaved narrow lane canopied with live oaks and skirting Silver Lake. Our bedroom window offered a glimpse of this beautiful harbor. We readily settled into a mellow pace in an environment perfect for our lifestyle.

Our bike ride to the beach became a daily ritual. The mile ride took us away from Ocracoke village into a seaside world of dunes, beach, and ocean. On our second visit to the beach, we encountered another gorgeous October day. The effect of the blueness of the sky was to send the head reeling. A light breeze blew as I strolled down to the water. I was struck by the clearness of the water, perhaps as clear as I’d seen on the Atlantic coast. Under the surface in the shallows were a whole system of miniature sand dunes, beautifully etched by the water’s movement with ridges and valleys, and painted by light and shadow. I was mesmerized by this natural art work, and continued to wade and explore. Time moved slowly, but abruptly stopped when drifting by and into my consciousness came the carcass of a flounder, its filleted flesh removed by a fisherman somewhere up the beach. I instinctively reached down and grabbed it, held it up over my head, and yelled up the beach: “Susan! The flounder! The dream!”

I have recounted this tale over the years to close friends who might appreciate this glimpse into another reality. My recent pilgrimage to Ocracoke after fifteen years brought the experience back into my consciousness. Susan and I were joined on this visit by Sara and Eliot, our twelve and ten year old children. On our last night dinner at an Ocracoke restaurant I told the tale to them. Eliot responded by saying it was deja vu. Different people have described the dream and event in a number of ways: a sign, a prescient dream, a gift, deja vu, spiritual, magical, a whack on the head. Over the years I have processed the experience and gained new meaning from it. I have begun to appreciate other realities beside that of my daily consciousness. I have periodically come in contact with other “signs”, and derived meaning from them.

And what signs did I encounter this July? I did experience the typical changed focus common to the island experience, where one loses touch with “normal” time and the outside world (a friend on Ocracoke referred to this state as “Ocracoma”). An early morning walk through the maritime forest to the marsh, several shooting stars after midnight: these and other events were memorable. Yet in the bittersweet last view of the beach prior to departing for the southbound ferry, my vision extended far off shore beyond the beach and surf. I was encouraged and enlightened by the promise of future pilgrimages.