It starts out on the bay. Jamaica Bay is probably less than a minute away from my house. It’s a muggy night as the air palpably scorches through my lungs as I walk to the shore. It’s around 2:00 in the morning when I see my bright yellow jet ski in the water. Unsure of what to expect next, I fire up the engine and go west.

Jamaica Bay isn’t exactly a spectacle. Most of the time, it’s littered with beer bottles, finished cigarettes, and napkins, among other objects. However, I’m beginning to wish that I was able to see a bit more of it as I continue my journey to what appears to be Brooklyn. It’s about as dark as it usually is at 2 in the morning, and the light on the jetski barely cuts through the density of the fog. Nevertheless, I valiantly continue my journey. As I feel the rush of warm wind in my face, the light of the jet ski goes out without warning, and I desperately try but fail to fix it. On this hot summer night, chills suddenly run down my spine as I sit there on the bright, yellow jetski staring blankly in the distance.

Without a plethora of options, I end up making the executive decision to try and go back the way I came from without my old friend, light. I’m not sure where I am going, but I know that I’m fast. A brief look at my speedometer says that I’m going 50 miles per hour. If I was going the right way, I would be ashore in no time. However, I begin to smell smoke. Before I can react to this, I feel the jet ski becoming lower and lower until, as I make an attempt to throw myself off, I sink with the jet ski. I realize that my attempts of survival are nothing short of futile as I feel myself fall, prepared yet not ready to accept my fate.

I gasp and instantly sit up in my bed, breathing heavily. My body is in a cold, daunting sweat as I look around the safe confines of my bedroom. I relax myself and lay down again. One of those dreams, I think to myself.

Every so often, I have these dreams where I wake up after sinking in a body of water for some reason. They’re a minor annoyance more than anything, but they have different levels of severity. I wish I understood why they happen, but unfortunately, I don’t. I’ve never been scared of water in my entire life, so in some ways it’s ironic that one of my worst nightmares happens in a large body of water. To go along with this, I’ve never rode a jet ski before in my life. Nevertheless, I energetically hop out of bed and continue on the regular rigors of my day.
When I was younger, I dreamt a lot more often than I do now. Well, I actually remembered my dreams a lot more back then. Even though I don’t seem to remember as much of my dreams now as I used to, I still remain captivated by the general ability that living things have to dream. Dreams, to me, are opportunities to do things that you wouldn’t ordinarily be given to do. I still remember a dream I had when I was seven where I went on a family vacation to Belarus. Belarus is a country in Europe that I remember seeing on a globe that I had on my room. I liked the way it sounded - Belarus, I would say over and over again. Perhaps it was because of this that I vividly remember a dream about it.  In the dream, the entire country was laden with shining green grass and trees that were tall to the extent that I had to lie down in order to see the top of them. To this day, I’ve never been to Belarus, but I’m pretty sure that it doesn’t look like that.

Another dream I have is of me being at a social gathering with seemingly everyone who I have ever known in my life. It’s takes place in a dark room with a shiny, silver floor as smooth jazz plays over the loudspeaker. It’s every bit of bizarre as it sounds. I also understand that it’s incredibly vague to say that seemingly everyone that I’ve ever known is at this mythical party, but I’m not sure how else to describe it. People from my first grade teacher from some kid on my hockey team in 2010 have talked to me in this dream. “Why are you here?” I would ask Ms. Castellano. She would then try to talk to me with her voice that resembled nails on a chalkboard, but I couldn’t hear her over the booming voice of my sister’s graduation speaker, who was right next to her. It’s actually kind of funny. The last recurring dream that I have is me playing the piano in the empty memorial chapel in my school as torrential downpour surrounds the building. More often than not, I’m playing Piano Man by Billy Joel. However, similar to my dream about the jet ski fiasco, I’ve never played the piano. Yet, even though that I find that I’m confused by my dreams more often than not, I almost look forward to the possibility of dreams every night. However, I’ve come to discover something that is disheartening yet painfully true; while dreams seem more abundant when one is young, they’re gradually less exciting as time goes by. Some nights, I stop to think about why I don’t often dream anymore. Then I realize that it’s 1:32 AM on a school night. There’s no more time for dreams anymore. When I wake up less than five hours later, I’ll be enthusiastically greeted by another 18-plus hours surrounded with work. I sigh, but go to bed excited, knowing that it’s for the best. Maybe tonight will be different. Maybe this time, I’ll get the jet ski to the shore.